


It's a Deal

by easterlystars



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Police, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romantic Comedy, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:31:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6667894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easterlystars/pseuds/easterlystars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detectives Jung and Shim must go undercover to bust an illegal drug ring, but there is one slight problem—they have to infiltrate a couples therapy resort as husband and husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission 001

**Author's Note:**

> When _[21 Jump Street](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/21_Jump_Street)_ (great movie) meets _[Couples Retreat](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Couples_Retreat)_ (not so great).

Yunho walks in and sees _him_ already sitting in front of Senior Inspector Kwon BoA’s desk, waiting. Patiently. Suppressing the urge to roll back out of the office with detest, Yunho straightens himself and stringently salutes the Senior Inspector at the door. 

“Inspector!”

“Yunho!” BoA stands up in greeting. “Please, come in.”

Yunho bows his head politely and closes the door behind him.

“Shim,” Yunho greets the other guy nonchalantly as he pulls out a chair to sit down.

“Jung,” the other guy—Changmin—responds, equally as uninterested.

BoA smiles, either oblivious or not giving a shit about the mounting tension now filling up her office. “Detectives. I cannot thank you two enough for your assistance on cracking the Busan case. The department has been absolutely _ecstatic_ about the results of the operation. You two have brought glory to our unit.”

Heart swelling at the compliment, Yunho tries not to break character.

“Thank you, Inspector,” he says, face professionally blank. “But we really can’t take all the credit. Without you and the team’s support, Shim and I would probably be dead by now.”

“Yes, but if you didn’t save the situation so brilliantly, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation in the first place.” BoA’s smile deepens. “I am very proud.”

Thrumming with pride, Yunho can’t help but to grin. “Thank you, Inspector.”

Changmin coughs something that sounded suspiciously like _ass licker_ , and Yunho holds his smile a little too long. The urge to not punch him square in the face is unbearable.

“However,” continues the Inspector, face turning serious. “Aside from expressing my gratitude, there is another reason why I’ve called you two in here.”

She sits down, folds her hands on top of the desk, and leans in.

“We have a new mission.”

Excitement surges through Yunho like an electrical current. This is his chance. Busan did nothing to satisfy his need for adrenaline-pumping, hard-boiled action; in fact, it did quite the opposite, but Yunho, being ever so positive and optimistic, is thoroughly determined to forget that Busan ever happened and start anew.

“Yes!”

“No,” Changmin groans.

BoA pulls out two pink manila folders from her desk drawer. “We have received intel that a narcotics deal would be taking place in three days. We must contain the shipment. If it breaches containment, it’s going to be impossible to trace.”

Yunho takes his briefing file and skims through it, heart racing. No profiles, no photos, no accounts, no traceable intel—just a short paragraph explaining the drug, the approximate date of transaction, and the the location of interest. It looks to be an impossible case.

Perfect.

“No leads on who might be the supplier?” Yunho asks, his brain already revving up to game mode.

BoA shakes her head. “Unfortunately no—and that is what we need you to find out. However, our informant did manage to track the drug back to this vacation resort in Jeju Island.”

Yunho picks up a postcard attached to the folder. It has an alluring picture of a romantic seaside resort, accompanied with clear blue skies and a rainbow that stretches over a white beach. A couple is seen alongside the coast, holding hands.

Under the rainbow is the name of the resort in fancy Roman font.

“Elysian Resort,” he reads.

Changmin drops the folder.

“You want us to go undercover at a couples therapy resort,” he realizes.

BoA nods, a bit too enthusiastically.

“Precisely, Changmin.”

Yunho nearly chucks his folder into a nearby trash can.

No. Fuck no.

No fucking way he’s going to lower his dignity yet again to work with that insufferable, impossible, pompous—

“Inspector,” Changmin starts incredulously. “I’m very grateful that you chose me for this mission, but… with him? Seriously?”

Boiling, Yunho glares at the two-star insignia sewn on the shoulder of BoA’s uniform, nose flaring.

“Don’t you think that after Busan that, you know, maybe Jung and I are, perhaps, not the most suitable partners for ops like this?”

BoA looks from Changmin to Yunho, eyebrows raised, not seeming to get the memo. “But Busan was a success.”

“Barely a success, Inspector,” Yunho offers coldly, face unmoving, anger seeping from his veins as unwanted memories of Busan rush back into his head. “He almost got us all killed.”

Changmin chuckles without any humor. “You see? I can’t work with him.”

That response amuses Yunho immensely. “Ah, for the first time we actually agree on something,” he says, turning to Changmin with a sarcastic grin.

Changmin ignores him.

“It’s either me or him,” he says.

Yunho shrugs and turns back to BoA with a haughty smile. “Agree again.”

“But I _can_ work with Detective Yang though.”

Yunho purses his lips at Changmin’s suggestion. It’s an open secret among Seoul PD that Changmin has a huge crush on the model-turned-criminal investigator. “Yang from traffic? This isn’t her field. You can’t just switch personnel around like that, _Changdol.”_

Changmin’s mouth twitches at the nickname, but otherwise continues to ignore Yunho.

“Then I’m out,” he tells BoA, rising from his chair. “Thanks for the offer.”

Yunho gapes at him.

As much as Yunho dislikes him, he’s had the misfortune to know Changmin well enough that he would never forfeit a victory strike, especially when it comes to anything that is handed to him in a silver platter. This case would be the perfect opportunity for Changmin to prove to the higher-up’s that he is capable of leading— _and he is,_ Yunho thinks sadly—and Yunho can’t hate him for that.

But Changmin is choosing to give all of that up. All because he doesn’t want to work with Yunho, and that kind of pisses Yunho off. Not that Yunho likes working with Changmin anyways, but if he had to do it again, he wouldn’t say no. Not like what Changmin is doing now.

Disappointment floods into Yunho. Changmin’s not even trying to put up a fight.

“Shim, sit,” BoA orders.

Vexed, Changmin falls back into his seat and slouches, crossing his arms.

“Boys,” BoA tries, voice almost pleading. “I know this probably isn’t the best team-up, but this case is top priority for the department. There are really no better senior agents than you two for this op.”

“The department has plenty of elite officers, Inspector,” Changmin points out airily, fiddling with a pen from BoA’s pen holder. “I don’t see it fit for us to be partnered up again.”

Well fuck. He’s not wrong. Again.

“…agree as well,” Yunho sighs, now thoroughly disappointed in himself too.

Changmin finally looks at Yunho, eyes narrowed.

Scowling, BoA leans back in her chair, arms crossed.

“Can’t you two just try to get along?”

“Sorry, Inspector, but I don’t think I can,” Changmin says, standing up again. “I’m sure there are better agents out there for Detective Jung.”

Yunho also stands, confused, not sure if that was meant to be an insult or a compliment.

BoA breathes out a heavy sigh. “Well. If you insist. I cannot force you.”

Changmin gives a curt bow and heads for the door.

“Well then. Yunho,” she starts, sitting straight, voice dramatic and loud. “Since the department is planning on a guaranteed promotion for the agents assigned to this op—”

Changmin suddenly slides back in next to Yunho.

“On second thought maybe I can,” he says quickly and grabs his file.

Yunho snorts and shakes his head. That lazy little fuck.

BoA smirks, pleased with herself. “Thank you, Detectives. God speed.”

Yunho takes his folder, bows out of BoA’s office, and hurries after Changmin, praying to every god and spirit that this would not end up like the fiasco that was Busan. Never again.

“Shim Changmin,” he calls out.

Changmin stops. Briefing folder clamped under his arm and hands in his pockets, he turns around, gorgeous long legs moving attractively.

Those fitted slacks hugged Changmin’s legs and ass in all the right places and it looks so fucking good on him. Shit. Another thing that Yunho can’t hate about Changmin.

“I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation,” Yunho says, voice calm. “Trust me, I hate this just as much as you do. But since we’re in this again, we have to set some ground rules. I don’t want Busan to be repeated.”

Changmin gives him a look of interest.

“And neither do I,” he says, stepping closer.

“Good. Another thing we can agree on.”

“And what _ground rules_ do you propose, Detective?” Changmin asks, voice low and husky. He takes another step closer to Yunho.

Yunho fixes his eyes on Changmin, unmoving.

“We stick together,” he proposes. “Don’t go rogue like last time.”

“Ah.”

They are now face-to-face. Changmin bends his head down a little and gives Yunho a patronizing stare, using his slightly taller height to his advantage.

Yunho resists the urge to step back.

“I work better solo,” Changmin sneers.

“Yes, and almost got me, you and everyone else killed,” Yunho asserts, holding his ground.

The younger man smirks.

“Touché,” he surmises. “It’s a deal.”

 

* * *

 

Yunho is in fucking pain.

Pain, because he’s now stuck with Changmin—again.

Pain, because he’s stuck with said Changmin in what seems to be the world’s smallest yacht.

Pain, because the ride over to the island has been wet, rough, and jerky; Yunho’s ribs are uncomfortably pressed against the sharpest corner of the passenger railing, his chest probably brutally bruised by now.

Pain, because he conveniently forgot to bring his meds and now his head is spinning out of control, his forehead feeling as heavy as lead, and his diaphragm threatening to implode. The cacophony of the boat engine’s propellers only made his headache worse.

Changmin hastily gives him a paper bag and Yunho holds onto it for dear life.

He is in so much fucking pain.

“So you get carsick, airsick, and now seasick,” Changmin counts down facetiously with his fingers, expression enormously smug. “Do you get horsesick too?”

The yacht makes a sharp swerve and Changmin gets thrown onto Yunho, pressing Yunho even harder against the railings.

“How are you even a cop?” Changmin adds softly, his face dangerously close, an arm over Yunho to steady himself.

Yunho’s chest feels so heavy it’s pushing him to tears. He closes his eyes, paper bag over his mouth.

“I’m going to throw up on you if you don’t shut the fuck up,” he growls.

The yacht levels back and Changmin pushes himself off.

“Chill, man. It just doesn’t make sense to me.”

Yunho glances down at Changmin’s long legs, where he’s trying to keep his luggage from sliding across the slippery deck.

The yacht rocks intensely again and Yunho starts to taste vomit in his mouth. 

“Your suitcases don’t make sense to me,” he mumbles into his paper bag. “Why the fuck did you bring so many? We’re only going to be there for three days.”

“One is for fresh clothes. The other is for dirty clothes. And maybe for some extra souvenirs.”

“We’re not on fucking vacation. And they’re all going to get dirty in the end. Why does it even matter?”

Changmin squints his eyes like he’s in pain.

_Oh._

“So you’re a germophobe,” Yunho says wryly.

Changmin ignores him, unenthused.

Yunho musters enough energy to laugh. “How are you even a cop?”

Changmin glares at him and Yunho feels a split second of victory before the yacht throws itself off-course again and Yunho vomits into his paper bag.

 

* * *

 

Yunho’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit.”

The artificial island is small enough to be seen in its entirety at the pier, but it is nothing less than breathtaking.

Yunho feels like he’s just invaded the lair of a Roman paradise. The entrance to the island is through a triumphal tufa stone arch, ornamented with heroic imagery of the Roman gods. The words _ELYSIAN RESORT_ glares monumentally at the top of the archway.

Behind the arch, Yunho can see a magnificent marble temple with doric columns. Surrounding the temple are smaller Roman villas scattered throughout. Tall palm trees and other tropical plants Yunho can’t make out envelope the premises. The beach wraps around the island like a flowy, white cape. The deep blue of the shoreline echoes the color of the evening sky.

Changmin is equally in awe.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “I didn’t even know a place like this can exist in Jeju.”

After a long stunned silence, Yunho, Changmin, and the rest of their tourist group pick up their luggage and follow the usher through the archway and across a cement-tiled road, lined with flaming torches. They follow the usher up the steps to a wide portico at the front of the temple. 

A pale man wearing a velvety purple tunic is standing in front of the temple’s enclosed entrance. He has a sharp nose, a sharp chin, sharp ears, and Yunho can’t help but to think that he looks a bit like a Christmas elf.

In a gleeful smile, the elf-man raises his arms and speaks, voice loud and stagy.

“Welcome, my friends, to the Elysian Resort, a paradise for couples who long to reignite old sparks and reclaim the PASSIONATE FLAMES OF LOVE!”

Awkward silence. Everyone stares. 

Even some crickets chirp.

But the elf-man’s smile widens.

“I am your resort host, Leeteuk,” he says in a low, polite voice. “Allow us to show you to your quarters. No need to take your bags. They will be waiting for you in your villas.”

“Villas?” gasps a wide-eyed girl standing beside Yunho. “As in independent houses?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Damn,” Yunho mutters under his breath, impressed.

Changmin whispers into Yunho’s ear, “Sweet deal indeed.”

 

* * *

 

The couples are separated from the main group. Yunho and Changmin are introduced to a short, mousy butler called Ryeowook. They follow Ryeowook through the temple and into a large open courtyard, cultivated with greenery, looming Roman statues, and a central fountain long enough to be an Olympic-sized pool.

Ryeowook then directs Yunho and Changmin to an outdoor corridor on the far east side, where it leads them straight to a villa that looks like a fancy, small-time country house. The villa has frescoed walls and a lavish stone veranda raised a few steps above the ground.

“Welcome,” Ryeowook says as he steps onto the veranda, “to paradise.” He pushes open the double wooden doors.

Yunho’s jaw drops for the second time.

If the resort island itself wasn’t paradisiacal enough, then this villa would definitely take anyone’s breath away.

The inside of the villa is, like the resort it’s housed in, largely inspired by ancient Roman and Greek architecture. White pillars divide the the room into separate chambers. The floor is made of white marble and the ceiling is made of glass, illuminating the rooms with natural light. 

“Here is the lounge,” Ryeowook introduces as they step into the vestibule of the villa. The lounge is a cozy, rectangular room with two squashy armchairs and a chaise. 

“And the open kitchen,” Ryeowook says, pointing to their right. 

“I can get used to this,” Changmin says softly, looking around in amazement.

“Yeah, well, you only have three days,” Yunho responds, equally as breathless.

“And here, of course, is the terrace,” Ryeowook directs, leading them to the far end of the villa where a glass floor-to-ceiling door opens out to a balcony. “Where you can get the most picturesque view of the East Sea.”

Yunho steps out. The floor of the platform is made of cobblestone. The balcony is as large as it is wide—to his left is a hot tub that extends to the edge of the balcony. On his right is a snack bar and two massage beds.

“Wow,” Changmin breathes. “This is like a painting.”

The sun has set, and the sky is now tinted with shades of blues, purples, oranges, and reds. The sea glitters like diamonds in the twilight; the sand now colored in a deep shade of gold. Yunho peeps below the railing and sees that they’re on the edge of a large cliff.

For a brief moment, Yunho forgot that he’s actually here on a mission.

Ryeowook takes them back inside and gestures them to the other side of the villa, where they’re led through an archway.

“And here, sirs, is the master bedroom.”

Yunho feels his stomach drop a little.

It’s quite breathtaking no doubt; the bedroom looks like an odd mix between a Roman bathhouse and a Japanese onsen. A large bath reservoir is in the far right end of the room. A regal, king-sized bed nested with red cushions laid on the other side. The bed is topped with rose petals shaped like a heart.

Too bad he’s sharing this room with Changmin. What a waste.

Changmin sees the bed and raises an eyebrow.

“Wow, I’m impressed. You guys are very serious with this couples therapy business.”

“Of course, sir,” says Ryeowook with a smile. “Here at the Elysian Resort, our goal is to strengthen bonds and provide our guests with the best ingredients for a healthy, lasting relationship. Every small detail is important, no matter how trivial it may seem.”

Changmin nods with approval. “Nice.”

Miffed, Yunho tears his gaze away from the bed and wanders off to the nightstand, where several plastic rods in a variety of colors laid neatly on display. Curious, Yunho picks one of them up. The rod has a series of spheres mounted on them.

“Those are anal beads, sir,” Ryeowook says brightly.

Mortified, Yunho drops them.

Changmin howls with laughter.

“Oh, don’t be so modest, Jung. How can you not know what it’s like to be a pain in the ass?”

Face burning, Yunho spots a small bottle next to the other anal beads. Lube.

 _“Last Longer, Play Harder,”_ he reads. He tosses the bottle to Changmin. “Sounds like something you need.”

Changmin catches the bottle swiftly with one hand. He gives Yunho a sarcastic smile.

“Are you satisfied with your villa, sirs?” Ryeowook asks, beaming.

“It’s excellent,” Changmin says, pushing Yunho aside to sit on the armchair next to him. He uncaps the bottle of lube and squeezes some out into his palm. 

“I’m glad you like it sir,” Ryeowook says delightfully. “Dinner will be served at seven.”

“Thank you, Ryeowook,” Yunho says, casting Changmin a dark look.

“Here is your itinerary for the next three days.” Ryeowook hands them a fancy, navy blue linen folder. “Your journey shall start tomorrow. Have a pleasant night.”

When the front door snaps shut, Changmin hops out of the armchair and jumps onto the bed, rose petals fluttering everywhere.

“I’ll take bed,” he announces.

Being a field agent Yunho has trained himself to sleep well in the most uncomfortable of places. Fighting over something as petty as a bed is the least of his concerns at the moment. Ignoring Changmin, he walks over to the chaise on the side of the room, where their luggage is already there waiting for them.

He sits down, rummages through his bag, and pulls out his laptop.

Yunho feels Changmin staring at him.

“What,” he asks, sounding more mellow than he intended to, and turns on his laptop.

“That’s interesting,” Changmin comments, mystified. “You’re not fighting me for it.”

“And indulge you like a child? That’s the last thing I want.”

Changmin sits up and makes a soft sound of acknowledgement. 

“We’ll take turns,” he concedes. “I’ll have it tonight, you can have it tomorrow night. How’s that?”

Yunho looks up at him from his laptop screen, eyebrows raised. That’s the nicest thing Changmin has said to him all day.

He shrugs. He has no reason to say no. “Deal.”

“Okay.” Changmin lies back down and uses his legs to brush off the remaining rose petals.

Yunho opens a fresh document and immediately starts typing downs his observations of the resort.

He hears Changmin walking up to him a few moments later.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“We only have three days, remember? I got to get started.”

“Do you even have a lead?”

“I will soon.”

“But you don’t.”

“And you do.”

“I do.”

“What?” Yunho tears his eyes away from his laptop’s screen and looks up.

Changmin pulls out a small spiral notebook from his back pocket.

“While you were too busy having fun with your crazy disequilibrium and vertigo of the sea, I was actually doing some detective work,” he says, waving the notebook. “Took a look around and talked to a few people I thought looked suspicious.”

Changmin drops the notebook onto Yunho’s laptop.

“This is why I work better alone.”

Yunho assumes a jaded expression. “You really want to work alone?” he asks, voice low.

Changmin’s face falters.

“I mean I can always bow out,” Yunho says, flipping through Changmin’s notebook casually. “You do you, I do me. But I highly doubt you’ll reach to the end of this op without my help. And you’re definitely not going to get that promotion. Just like last time.”

Changmin narrows his eyes at him but otherwise doesn’t say anything. 

Smirking, Yunho does a brief one-over at the information written on the notebook.

He frowns.

“You listed everyone from the resort,” he says, disappointed.

“Yep.”

Yunho sighs. “So you basically have no lead,” he mutters grumpily.

Changmin shakes his head and gives a complacent hum. “Look closer.”

Pursing his lips sullenly, Yunho looks back at the notebook. His eyes narrow.

“Leeteuk? The resort host?”

“If the deal is going to start here, that means someone who has management control over the resort must be in some way involved with the supplier, correct?”

Yunho shrugs. “I suppose.”

“So we’ll start from him.”


	2. Mission Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you so much for supporting the first chapter! :D I'm glad you guys are finding it entertaining so far (which is the goal). Pretty long chapter ahead--expect future chapters to be around the same length (so that would mean I would take just as slow to update lol I'm sorry OTL)
> 
> This chapter is beta'd by the fantastic and glorious [zimriya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya) [[tumblr](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/)] ♥

“BOING BOING BOING BOING.”

Changmin jumps awake with a start.

“CATCH, CATCH, CATCH ME IF YOU WANNA.”

“What the fuck?” he mumbles, brain addled.

“Drop your weapon,” Yunho slurs somewhere across the room, sounding half asleep.

Jarring electronic music is blasting throughout the villa, bursting Changmin’s eardrums. Feeling groggy as fuck, he reaches over to the nightstand and feels for his phone, sweeping down a few anal beads on the way.

“Are you fucking serious? It’s only five o’clock!”

“The itinerary!” Yunho shouts over the music, now wide awake. He pulls out the folder Ryeowook gave them last night. “Couples Skill and Trust Building at six a.m.!” 

Changmin groans, tossing his phone across the bed. “Who in their right minds would wake up at five a.m. just to—”

The music suddenly stops. Changmin’s ears pound against the silence.

“RISE AND SHINE LOVEBIRDS!” Leeteuk’s loud voice splits through the room. Yunho yelps and trips over his sheets.

“WE HOPE YOU’VE ALL ENJOYED OUR CHOSEN SONG OF THE DAY, ‘CATCH ME’ BY DONG BANG SHIN KI, A STORY ABOUT A MAN DESPERATELY CATCHING ON TO A LOVE HE HAS LOST. LET THE SONG BE A LESSON TO US ALL, REMINDING US THAT IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO LOVE AGAIN.”

Furious, Changmin hops off the bed and searches for the source of sound. He’s going to find that fucking thing and break it.

“YOUR BREAKFAST WILL BE SERVED IN YOUR PATIOS. GROUP A, PLEASE CONVENE AT THE BACK PAVILION AT SIX A.M. FOR YOUR FIRST EXERCISE. YOUR JOURNEY OF LOVE STARTS TODAY!”

And with a click, Leeteuk hangs up.

“I thought this was a couples retreat, not a fucking bootcamp,” Changmin mutters grumpily, eyes searching the ceiling for the speakers. Leeteuk’s terrible music is still ringing in his ears.

A pair of slacks land on his face.

“Get on with the program, Shim,” Yunho grits, running to the bathroom.

Changmin painfully winces at his crumpled slacks.

 

* * *

 

After spending a good fifteen minutes hooting at Yunho for taking too long in the bathroom (“Did you fall into the toilet, Jung?!”) and enduring another fifteen of hearing Yunho complaining about how he takes too long to finish breakfast (“But we can’t waste food, Jung.”), Changmin and Yunho finally arrive at the location of their first exercise, five minutes before six.

It’s being held inside a large, dome-shaped beach pavilion located on the southernmost coast of the island. The pavilion, also infused with Roman inspiration, looks quite angelic and peaceful with its sheer white curtains and golden lattice work. The pure whiteness of the structure makes the blue of the sea stand out even more.

But it doesn’t matter how beautiful the view is, because Changmin hasn’t woken up this early since training camp and there’s definitely no reason to wake up this early, not even for training camp. Changmin is here on a mission and one mission only—to find the supplier and contain the shipment—not to waste time doing this couples therapy shit.

He scans their group and frowns. Their mark, Leeteuk, is missing.

“Alright, you got everyone down?” Changmin mutters to Yunho as his eyes continue to survey their group. He catches a short guy leaning against a pillar on the other side of the pavilion. Jonghyun. If Leeteuk ends up going straight then Jonghyun should definitely be their next mark. That kid looks shady as fuck.

“Yes,” Yunho whispers back.

“Do I need to run it down for you again?” 

“No, I got it.”

“Or do you need to go back to the villa and get your notebook?”

_“No.”_

“Are you sure? Because these are long stories and it’s kind of confusing. That—”

“That’s the straight couple, Kai and Krystal. They can’t keep their hands off each other, so it doesn’t look like they’re in a troubled marriage. That’s the gay couple, Jonghyun and Key, but you think they’re probably friends with benefits so they’re most likely committing marriage fraud. And that’s the lesbian couple, Taeyeon and Tiffany, the only couple besides us that actually look like they hate each other. The rest are irrelevant.”

Changmin stares at him. 

“Yeah,” he says after a beat, genuinely impressed.

“You nagged me a billion times about it last night. I got it.”

“Well it doesn’t even fucking matter anymore,” Changmin growls. “Our mark is supposed to be Leete—” 

Yunho narrows his eyes at him. 

“—strawberry,” Changmin corrects hurriedly, scowling at Yunho’s lame choice in code names. “But he’s not even here. We’re not even supposed to be here. We’re wasting time.”

“If we don’t go through with this course, we’re going to get kicked out of the program. Don’t you dare do anything rash.”

“I can say the same for you, Jung.”

Yunho opens his mouth to retort, but is silenced by the arrival of two men wearing long white Roman robes. The shorter of the two has a comical face and distracting hot pink hair drawn into a ponytail. The taller man resembles a body builder, with thick eyebrows and piercing brown eyes that kind of reminds Changmin of Popeye the Sailor Man.

The shorter man raises his arms into the air like a campy sorcerer. He’s so skinny to the point that Changmin is surprised the sea breeze hasn’t carried him away by now.

“Welcome to the Elysian Resort,” the skinny man announces. He sounds a lot tougher than he looks. “I am Kim Heechul, a licensed MFT, sex therapist, psychologist, and your main advisor for the weekend. This is Coach Kangin, my assistant trainer.”

Coach Kangin crosses his thick arms and nods sternly in greeting. This guy can definitely flick Heechul off like an ant.

“I know why you are all here,” Heechul starts slowly, voice obnoxiously philosophical. He makes his way towards them, long robes sweeping across the mosaic floor. “You want to know the answer to the question—how can I make it work?” 

There is a murmur of assent. A few couples nod enthusiastically.

The psychologist comes to a halt in the center of the pavilion. He flashes them a charismatic smile. “Well. I am here to help you answer this million-dollar question.”

Changmin glances over his shoulder. Yunho isn’t paying much attention to Heechul. He sees the other man’s eyes flicking over their group, perhaps looking for signs of suspicious behavior.

Walking back to Kangin’s direction, Heechul continues. “Here at Elysian Resort, our goal is to renew broken bonds with social activities that can not only foster partnerships, but also strengthen relationships. I have created a unique program….”

“I can’t do this,” Changmin whispers to Yunho desperately, zoning out of Heechul’s speech. “This is bullshit. We’re wasting time.”

“It’s only going to be a couple of hours every morning,” Yunho says in a hushed voice, eyes watching Heechul. “We’ll have the rest of the day.”

“The deal is taking place in three days, Jung,” Changmin reminds through gritted teeth. “We can’t afford to waste time. Right now we should be looking for the strawberry, not standing here with the pineapple!”

“Everyone!” Heechul cries, his loud voice snapping Changmin’s attention back to him. “Please line up at the beach.”

The group marches off the stone pavilion and onto the white sand. Kangin gestures the couples to line up in a row and face the sea.

“Now,” says Heechul, clasping his hands together. “Let’s start our first exercise for the course, shall we? The old-time classic, the trust fall. Would the younger partner please stand an arm’s length in front of your loved one?”

Jaws clenching with impatience, Changmin follows the order anyways and steps out.

“This iconic exercise is a useful tool in building teamwork and establishing trust. It is effective in the sense that you get to feel what it’s like to trust and be trusted.”

Changmin heaves out a bored sigh. This is fucking stupid. How is he going to tread through two hours of this?

“On the count of three, would the younger partner please fall backwards, and the older partner, make sure to catch. Ready? One, two, three!”

Changmin falls back—only to quickly realize that he probably shouldn’t.

He lands straight into the ground with a thud.

A quick, sharp pain snaps into his lower spine. Coarse sand seeps into his shorts, filling up in places where it’s not supposed to be filled.

Changmin glares up at Yunho.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Sorry,” Yunho says, looking down at Changmin with a blank face. “Slipped.”

Changmin takes a look around him and sees that all couples had done the exercise correctly.

He grinds his teeth, seething.

Heechul walks over to Changmin and Yunho and gives them a thoughtful frown.

“Well,” he hums in contemplation, stroking his hairless chin. “This is only the first exercise. We have plenty of time to practice.”

“I’m divorcing him,” Changmin tells Heechul, absolutely serious.

“We’ll work on it,” Heechul says with a bright smile. He turns to the other couples and waves. “Great job, everyone! _Most_ of you have passed the first test! Yay!”

Yunho extends a hand. 

Changmin eyes it with wary. 

Figuring that he should probably free his junk from sinking even further into the hot sand, Changmin reaches for it—

—but misses, as Yunho chooses to bend down just at the right moment to scratch his own knee. Changmin loses balance and falls back in, more sand sinking into his asshole.

Without a second glance, Yunho ambles back to the pavilion with the main group.

Changmin glares after him, fuming, lips forming an angry thin line.

Back at the pavilion, the resort staff had already set up two rows of folded chairs on opposite ends of the platform, leaving a large open space in the middle. The chairs are facing each other, and the intimidating set-up reminds Changmin of his first supervisor board meeting after graduating cadet school.

Heechul directs the couples to stand in front of a chair and face each other. Feeling vengeful, Changmin whacks his shoulder into Yunho’s on his way to stand next to Jonghyun, nearly knocking Yunho off his feet.

“Oops,” Changmin says, grinning. 

Yunho’s furious face pleases him immensely.

“For our second exercise,” says the philosopher dude, “we want to work on strengthening bonds and reconnect. Now, take off your mask, and free yourself from your chains.”

There’s a brief, confusing pause.

“Mask?” asks Jonghyun.

Without any warning, Heechul undoes his rope belt and disrobes himself dramatically.

Changmin’s jaw drops. Heechul’s wearing nothing else except a set of tight pink briefs.

“Excuse me?” Key cries, eyes wide in shock.

“Undress!” Heechul shouts.

The couples exchange concerned looks, but follow Heechul’s orders nonetheless. Changmin quickly takes off his t-shirt and shorts. He feels slightly uncomfortable at being in front of so many people with only his briefs, but at least he’s not wearing anything furry and pink. 

He glances over at Yunho, and sees that Yunho has already stripped his clothes off. He’s actually much paler than Changmin had originally imagined, and quite athletically built, with broad shoulders, muscled thighs, and sculpted biceps, though he seemed to have gotten a bit lazy in working out the chest. He’s wearing boxers with Mickey Mouse print, and Changmin can’t help but to smile at the cute design.

Yunho looks at Changmin, and for a brief second, Changmin catches the other man’s eyes skim over his body, lips slightly parted. Changmin smirks, confidence oozing back into him. He regularly goes to the gym—it’s always cardio on Mondays and weight training on Wednesdays and Fridays—never missing a beat. Yunho’s never shown this much admiration and jealousy in one expression before, and that makes Changmin feel… well, important.

Yunho notices Changmin staring at him and quickly looks away.

“Now, look at your mate,” Heechul says. “Explore your mate with your eyes. Fill yourself with your mate’s essence.”

Changmin narrows his eyes at the strange request. He glances over at Yunho, but the other man isn’t following Heechul’s directions at all. His eyes are surveying the other couples, his eyebrows etched with concern, and Changmin knows that look. He’s on the search.

Yunho’s eyeing that gay couple, Jonghyun and Key, who both look very disinterested in each other. Changmin looks a chair down, and sees Kai and Krystal practically eye-fucking each other. Taeyeon and Tiffany, on the other hand, seem to be the only couple in the group who are actually following Heechul’s orders.

“You’re not looking at your mate.”

“Holy shit,” Changmin jumps. Heechul had just appeared out of nowhere behind him. 

“Your name, sir?”

“Changmin.”

“And?” Heechul says, looking at Yunho, an arm extended to him graciously.

“Yunho.”

Heechul’s face splits into a wide, creepy grin.

“Now, Changmin-ssi,” he starts patiently. “I want you to look straight at Yunho. Look at your partner.”

Everyone’s attention is on him. Changmin scrunches his nose and shifts his legs, feeling uncomfortable that he’s being put on the spot. He looks at Yunho.

Yunho frowns back at him, confused.

“Do you feel that intense energy building up in your core?” asks Heechul.

“Kind of,” Changmin lies.

“Now, tell Yunho-ssi what you see.”

Changmin’s eyes naturally land on Yunho’s now very perky nipples.

“Boobs,” he answers honestly.

Everyone stares. 

Color immediately ebbs from Yunho’s face. He rubs his hands together and hunches a little, body language insecure.

Heechul shakes his head. “No, Changmin-ssi. Tell your partner what you _really_ see.”

Changmin’s heart is beating rapidly now. Everyone’s watching them and it’s making Changmin nervous as fuck.

His eyes wander over to the scar under Yunho’s left eye. Gwangju 49. There’s a jagged line that runs across Yunho’s neck, right under his chin. The Mokpo case. Changmin drops his gaze to the white leathery patch of healed skin on Yunho’s left bicep. That was from Busan.

And suddenly, Changmin is unable to look at Yunho in the eye.

“I see honor,” he says softly.

Yunho’s hard expression clears. His lips part, eyes gazing at Changmin with wonder. 

Heechul’s face brightens.

“Yes, yes! And Yunho-ssi, what do you see in your partner?”

Yunho studies Changmin closely.

“Devotion,” he says.

Changmin raises his eyebrows at him.

“Excellent! Wonderful! This is exactly what this exercise is supposed to achieve! Rekindle that spark! Let it take you and your mate back to the beginning when memories were first made together!”

Heechul then starts to ramble on about something unnecessarily complicated like destiny and fate, but Changmin is no longer interested in listening to him.

He snorts at Yunho. “Devotion? Really?”

Yunho turns away from Changmin’s gaze. “I dunno. Just some random word that slipped out of my mouth.”

Heechul finishes whatever he had been saying and stops between Changmin and Yunho. Changmin is mortified at the close-up. Heechul’s ugly pink briefs are the exact same shade as his pink hair.

Heechul claps his hands and Kangin shows up behind him, holding a silver platter of thick strawberry pocky sticks.

“Everyone, please pick up a pocky stick.”

Krystal gasps. “Omigosh! Are we doing the pocky game?”

“Yes, my dear! The infamous pocky game. A great exercise for couples to have fun.”

Kangin offers Yunho a pocky stick from the platter and Yunho gingerly picks one up.

“I’m sure you all know the rules,” Heechul says in a sing-song voice. “Each partner eats on one end of the pocky stick. Whichever couple finishes the entire stick first wins.”

Changmin feels his throat drying up like a dead well.

“This is optional, right?” he croaks.

Heechul’s eyebrows come together, making him look like a hawk with pink feathers.

“Problems, Changmin-ssi?”

“No, of course not!” Yunho says quickly, grabbing Changmin’s arm. “We just, uh… haven’t done this in a while.” He shoots Changmin a warning glare. 

“Take your positions!” Kangin yells angrily from the other end of the pavilion.

“I am not playing this game,” Changmin hisses as Yunho steps in front of him, pocky in hand. “You’re not making me.”

“Just don’t move. I’ll do everything.”

“This is totally unnecessary—”

“It’ll be over quick.”

“And very stu—”

Changmin’s words are drowned by an earsplitting gong.

“GO!” Heechul shouts.

Yunho stabs the pocky stick in between Changmin’s lips. Changmin freezes, eyes popped wide open. Yunho holds onto Changmin’s face and starts gobbling down his own end of the stick.

Changmin’s heart throbs hard against his ribcage. It feels like sound and space is bending around him, suffocating him; Yunho’s face is pushing nearer, drawing closer, and Changmin really wants to push him off. But Changmin is rooted to his spot, petrified. 

They’re practically sharing air now. Yunho’s mouth quickly reaches the end of its destination. He angles his head, nose gently brushing against Changmin’s. Their lips touch, and Changmin feels a knot twisting in his lower belly. 

He feels Yunho’s tongue pull the last bit of the pocky stick out of his mouth and into his own.

The gong’s cacophonic sound screeches into Changmin’s ears just at that moment, disorienting him. Yunho pushes Changmin off.

“WE HAVE OUR WINNERS!” Kangin yells, hitting the gong again. “KAI AND KRYSTAL!”

Yunho groans. “Ugh so close!”

Changmin gapes at him.

 

* * *

 

Changmin is very, very done. Another hour of _Smash Those Balls!_ and he’s going to cut Heechul’s ponytail.

They—or rather just Changmin, as Yunho looked like he was actually enjoying himself—have just endured a long torture game of Yunho popping balloons tied to Changmin’s crotch (Changmin did not volunteer for this). Fortunately, Changmin was allowed to wear his shorts again, so at least it didn’t hurt as much as it could’ve. But Yunho, being as competitive as he is stupid, was bent on defeating model couple Kai and Krystal in destroying the most balloons under a minute, so Changmin could only wish for his dick to still be intact by the end of the day. 

“Half the morning gone,” Changmin laments as he and Yunho head over to the terrace for lunch. “And where the fuck is Leeteuk?”

Yunho raises an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

Changmin chokes back an obnoxiously sarcastic laugh. “Of course I’m okay. We just wasted half a day doing stupid party games when we could’ve use that time to tail our mark. I feel _great.”_

“Oh, c’mon. You gotta admit, they were pretty fun.”

Changmin’s heart gives a jolt. His mind flashes to the moment when Yunho’s lips touched his, and he feels his face burn.

“They were dumb as fuck,” he asserts angrily, mentally shaking the image out of his head, “lost a couple thousand brain cells doing them.”

Yunho scoffs. “You’re not still mad about how I didn’t catch you during the trust fall, right?”

Changmin stops in his tracks. He stares at Yunho incredulously. “Are you seri—”

Yunho suddenly clamps a hand over Changmin’s mouth and pushes him roughly against a nearby palm tree.

Changmin swats Yunho’s hand away. “What the fuck!”

“Look,” Yunho whispers.

“Look _where?”_

Yunho grabs Changmin’s face and jerks his head to the left. 

Changmin’s eyes widen with surprise.

Leeteuk and Taeyeon are over at the terrace, arguing heatedly. Leeteuk goes for Taeyeon’s hand, but she slaps it away. She prods a finger in his chest as if threatening him, and then stalks off. Leeteuk looks down dejectedly, sighs, and then heads back inside the main temple.

“They look quite acquainted with each other,” says Yunho.

“I think we should check out Taeyeon before we hit him up,” suggests Changmin as he watches her walk out of the terrace to the beach.

“I agree. I’ll talk to Taeyeon and you can have a chat with Tiffany.”

“Wait,” says Changmin quickly, turning back to Yunho. “What does Tiffany have to do with this?”

“Tiffany is Taeyeon’s wife, isn’t she? She’ll probably know a thing or two. We’ll have some extra eyes.”

“But why am I talking to Tiffany?”

“Because I’m gonna talk to Taeyeon.”

“Why do you get to talk to Taeyeon?”

“Are we seriously going to argue about this right now?”

“I just want to understand why you think it’s a better idea for you talk to Taeyeon instead of me?”

“Look, does it really—”

Something smacks into Yunho from behind, ramming him into Changmin. On instinct, Changmin wraps his arms around Yunho’s waist to steady them both.

Kai and Krystal are leaning against Yunho, trying to suck their tongues off each other.

Realizing what they had crashed into, Kai breaks the kiss and pulls Krystal off Yunho. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly in a dazed grin, eyes half closed like he had just woken up. “Didn’t know this part of the beach was taken.”

Krystal wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist and gives them a suggestive look. “We’ll go somewhere else.” She winks.

Feeling perfectly misunderstood, Changmin opens his mouth to explain because, no, this part of the beach _is not_ fucking taken and they don’t need to go anywhere else because they’re not doing what they think they’re doing, but Kai and Krystal have already started making out again and have made their way to another palm tree.

Changmin holds his breath. His arms stiff up. 

He’s still hugging Yunho.

And Yunho is very, _very_ close to him.

As if he had read Changmin’s mind, Yunho immediately flings himself off.

 _“Talk to Tiffany,”_ he says, his tone final.

And with that, he stalks off, cheeks flushing.

And trips on a twig.

 

* * *

 

Changmin prefers to work alone.

He prefers to follow his own orders and bear his own burdens. He prefers to deal with his own choices and handle his own mistakes. He prefers to be his own responsibility. This whole partner thing—it never really worked well for him.

Yet Changmin is here, partnering up with an idealistic fool whose irrational competitiveness and unmatched ego completely overrides Changmin’s own more mellow and stealthy approach to investigation.

They are, in every sense of the word, a poor match.

So he doesn’t understand why he’s eating up Yunho’s every whim, following his orders like a well-trained K-9. Changmin is surprised that he still hasn’t made any attempts to reprimand Yunho for his impulsive methods of investigating. 

Changmin doesn’t know what’s wrong with him.

He looks up from his now empty plate of lunch. Tiffany is sitting at the next table, alone. Yunho had just followed Leeteuk and Taeyeon into the main temple, where they’re probably going to have another, hopefully, angry conversation. Tiffany didn’t look too happy when Leeteuk dragged Taeyeon away.

This is literally the worst part of the job. Small talk. Probing. Changmin wipes his mouth clean with a tablecloth.

“I wonder if the weather is always so nice here,” he says, eyes squinting at the sky.

Tiffany looks up from her untouched plate. 

Changmin puts on a generous smile. 

She smiles back. “It is.”

“You sound like you come here often.”

“Too many times to count.”

“Oh?” Changmin says, actually curious. “So this isn’t your first time here?”

“Taeyeon and I come here almost every weekend.”

“Every weekend? Isn’t that a bit too much?”

Tiffany sighs and looks back down, her pretty face somber. “Nothing is too much if you're in love, Changmin-ssi.”

“It is if you have to come here every week.”

Tiffany’s head snaps back at him. Her eyes narrow.

Changmin seems to have struck a cord. “Not saying that you and Taeyeon-ssi aren’t in love,” he explains quickly, “but… my husband and I came here because we have some problems in our marriage, and… we really want this retreat to help.”

“It will. It will help,” Tiffany reassures firmly.

“I don’t think so if you guys have to come here every weekend.”

“Changmin. This retreat works. Every time Taeyeon and I come here, we—”

She pauses, face turning pink. 

“What?” he asks, tone impatient.

Tiffany’s lips form a thin line.

“Wewouldhavethemostmindblowingsexever,” she says quickly, words tripping over each other like they’re in a rush to leave her mouth. “So I know this retreat is good for the both of us”

Changmin stares at her, mouth agape.

“You guys come here every weekend just to _have sex?”_ he asks incredulously.

Tiffany’s face immediately turns red. She stands up abruptly. “Excuse me,” she says through gritted teeth. She grabs her phone on the table and stomps away, looking embarrassed. She bumps into Yunho on her way to the temple and sends him an angry glare.

Yunho raises his arms and gives Changmin a livid what-the-fuck-did-you-do look. 

Changmin shrugs back.

 

* * *

 

Yunho slams Changmin against a very familiar palm tree. 

“What the fuck did you say to Tiffany?” he asks aggressively, hands crumpling up Changmin’s t-shirt collar.

“That chick’s got problems, man! They come here every weekend just to fuck!”

“How can you—” Yunho pauses, face faltering. He loosens up his hold on Changmin’s collar. “Don’t you think that sounds familiar?”

Changmin gives him a confused look.

“Euphoria, enhanced sensations, _increase in libido.”_

Holy shit. Changmin’s brain lights up. “The side effects.”

Yunho lets go of Changmin’s shirt and nods grimly.

Changmin bites back a bitter huff. “My god. That fucking son-of-a-bitch got them addicted.”

“And they don’t know it,” says Yunho, face contorted with concern. “That explains why this resort has so many regular customers.”

Changmin’s eyes widen as the realization hits him. “Jung. The guy’s using these couples as lab rats.”

They look at each other. Yunho’s so pale now his face is shining under the shadow of their palm tree.

“Whatever new variant of the drug the supplier’s been testing? It’s been working the past few weeks. And they’re going to ship that in two days.”

“Well,” Yunho sighs, looking past Changmin to the main temple. “Whoever that person is, it’s probably not the strawberry.”

Changmin frowns. “Why?”

“Apparently, the strawberry and the apple used to be in a relationship,” says Yunho, his voice dropping to a whisper. “They had to break it off because their parents didn’t approve and the strawberry did something that screwed her over. But he never forgot about her and still cares about her a lot.”

Changmin stares at him with amazement.

“And you got all of that just from a five-minute conversation.”

Yunho looks at Changmin as if he had just tested him with a rhetorical question. “Yeah?”

Changmin doesn’t know if he should be impressed or horrified.

“But anyway,” Changmin continues, brain racked. “What does that got to do with the strawberry not being the suppl—”

Yunho glares at him.

“…smoothie,” Changmin corrects dully, still unimpressed with Yunho’s choice of code words. “What does that got to do with the case?”

“Because do you really think the strawberry would turn the love of his life into his lab rat? And not only that, but to also let the love of his life have sex with his love rival?”

Changmin shrugs. “There are many crazy people in this world, Jung.”

“I don’t know, man. I just don’t feel it’s him.”

“Heechul.”

Yunho looks inquisitively at him.

“He owns the resort, doesn’t he?” Changmin points out smoothly. “If the sex drug works, that means his therapy works, and then his clients would keep on coming back.”

Yunho frown and bites his lip. “Possible.”

As if on cue, Kai and Krystal appear next to them again, but this time, they’re not swallowing each other’s faces. They give Changmin and Yunho knowing smiles.

Yunho steps back a bit, cheeks pink. Changmin feels heat flush to his ears.

He straightens up and steps away from the palm tree.

“The tree is clean,” he tells Kai and Krystal. “Enjoy.”

 

* * *

 

“This is a terrible idea.”

Yunho drags Changmin into the resort’s administrative basilica while everyone’s distracted with their traditional three-part Roman dinner at the ceremonious _Antony & Cleopatra_ pavilion. After scrounging around a bit in the abandoned office building, they finally spot Heechul’s name tag at the end of a hall behind the receptionist desk.

“We have no equipment to extract intel,” Yunho points out, movements quiet so they won’t set off any burglar alarms. “This is our only option. If you have an even better idea, Changdol, I’m all ears.”

Changmin looks nervously around him. “What if someone just walks in here?”

“Then I’ll distract them.”

“Easy for you to say, Jung. What are you going to distract them with, pocky?”

Yunho doesn’t respond and reaches the door of Heechul’s office. He turns the doorknob. 

“It’s unlocked!”

An uneasy feeling settles over Changmin. He feels like they’re being watched.

“But what if—”

Changmin’s never going to say his thoughts out loud again, because Heechul suddenly pops out of nowhere behind them, like a ghost on steroids.

Yunho whips around and grabs Changmin’s hand.

“Yunho-ssi, Changmin-ssi!” Heechul greets brightly. He’s (thankfully) no longer naked, and is wearing a long, white toga with a tasseled pink shoulder sash over his chest. His hot pink hair looks even pinker indoors.

Heechul bows politely. “What can I be of service?”

“Oh, nothing,” Yunho says, voice casual, but his grip on Changmin’s hand tightens. “We… have, er… some problems and we need your help. Are you available?”

Heechul shoots them a cheeky smile.

“Of course, Yunho-ssi! That is why I’m here. Please, come in.” 

_Nice,_ Changmin mouths, impressed with Yunho’s smooth response. They follow Heechul into his office.

It’s a nice abode; the office looks less like a psychologist’s clinic and more like a miniature version of their Roman villa. The wall behind Heechul’s desk is made of glass and looks out to the beach. There’s a spa on their right and a few comfortable couches to their left.

“Have a seat,” says Heechul, pointing to the couches. He goes to his desk to grab a clipboard.

Changmin squeezes Yunho’s hand to get his attention. He gently nods his head toward the direction of Heechul’s desk, a sign to say that he’s going to look around. Yunho nods his head, getting the message.

Yunho sits on the red loveseat while Heechul takes the bright pink armchair on the right. Changmin rolls his eyes. Of course it’s pink.

“Can I walk around?” Changmin asks Heechul. “I feel… uh less jittery when I’m moving around.”

“Sure.”

Heechul pulls out his—predictably—pink reading glasses from somewhere under his tunic and puts them on. He crosses his legs, leans forward, and gives his full attention to Yunho.

“So Yunho-ssi, Changmin-ssi. How can I help you?”

“You’re also a sex therapist, right?” asks Yunho. “I mean I’m sure couples come to you all the time for sex problems.”

Changmin catalogues the office as Yunho talks, his arms crossed. He takes a few casual steps toward Heechul’s desk and briefly looks over his organized but empty table. A laptop, a desk calendar, and a textbook on sexual disorders. 

“Of course, Yunho-ssi. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I created this resort. So troubled couples can come in here to seek not only guidance on how to maintain healthy, lasting relationships, but also learn more about how to improve sexual pleasure and empowerment.”

Yunho clears his throat slowly. “Uh yeah, that’s cool, that’s perfect. That’s exactly why we came here for. Anyways, you see, Changmin and I… we can’t… um…”

Changmin stops in front of a white board coated with pictures of Heechul with some of the resort staff, including resort host Leeteuk and Ryeowook, Changmin and Yunho’s butler.

“Is this technical? No climax? Flaccid penis?” Heechul suggests briskly.

Changmin snaps his head back to Yunho and Heechul, slightly taken aback by Heechul’s words. This pseudo therapy session is getting a bit too specific to be comfortable. A familiar pressure knots in Changmin’s lower belly.

Yunho’s neck turns red. “No, not really…? Just… no spark. Nothing.”

“Can’t… orgasm…” mutters Heechul as he scribbles it down on his clipboard. “And how long has this been happening?”

“Maybe like… six, seven months?”

Heechul looks at Yunho as if he had just told him that the washing machine had dyed his pink briefs blue. “Oh boy,” he says, shaking his head sadly. “But don’t worry, dear. This is not a hopeless case.”

Changmin taps the floor with his foot, drawing Yunho’s attention back to him. He shakes his head. _Nothing._

Yunho’s eyebrows furrow.

Heechul licks his fingers and turns a page in his clipboard. “May I suggest some sex positions that can enhance—”

“They won’t work,” Yunho interrupts, voice sounding more urgent. “We tried everything you can think of.”

Heechul pauses mid-writing. He looks up at Yunho.

“We really want our marriage to work again,” says Yunho, looking intently at Heechul. “The couples activities we did today didn’t help at all. We need something more extreme, more… _immediate.”_

Changmin sits down next to Yunho and casts him a sideways glance. He’s trying to lure Heechul into revealing more information about the drug. 

His chest tightens, heart pounding up his throat. If Heechul really was the supplier, Yunho’s practically telling him that they’re narcs.

But Heechul doesn’t show any signs of suspicion. He looks at Yunho shrewdly. “… like drugs?” 

“Can you?” asks Yunho eagerly.

“Yunho-ssi, I am a therapist, not a psychiatrist. I can’t prescribe medication.”

“I know, but—”

Changmin grabs Yunho’s hand to stop him. He has said enough. If he says any more, they’re going to be at a higher risk of getting their identities compromised.

Yunho deflates, realizing his mistake. “Just maybe you might have some super serum version of viagra or… something,” he adds in a small voice.

With a patient hum, Heechul sets his clipboard aside and folds his hands in front of him. “Well dear, if this would put your heart more at rest, the activities we did today were meant to be team-building exercises only, to re-introduce trust and intimacy in your relationship. But tomorrow, our activities will be much different. It is entirely aimed for a more… intensive sexual experience.” 

Changmin coughs.

Fuck. Another day of doing stupid shit with Yunho.

And Yunho seems to be in agreement too, spitting out a flat, sarcastic, “Oh, wonderful.”

“Tomorrow night, we will also host a banquet where everyone can enjoy a romantic seaside luxury dinner, as well as engage in activities that will for sure make the night unforgettable. It is the ultimate fairytale for adults, and it’s the finest that Elysian has to offer yet.”

Heechul’s words unfold in Changmin’s head like a scroll. 

“A banquet,” he repeats slowly.

“Unforgettable night,” notes Yunho.

They look at each other, comprehension dawning on their faces.

_They’re going to be the last batch of lab rats._

Yunho then turns back to Heechul, flashing him a white smile. “Sounds great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The scene where Heechul tells the couples to strip off their clothes is inspired by a similar scene in the 2009 film [_Couples Retreat_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Couples_Retreat). Heechul himself is also based on the character "Marcel" (played by Jean Reno).


	3. Mission III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES THIS FIC IS STILL ALIVE LOL
> 
> Thank you [zimriya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya) for the beta ♥

“HEY YOU GORGEOUS!”

Yunho opens his eyes. Dazzling morning sunlight blinds his vision, like fire. He blinks once, twice, three, and four more times, hoping to blink away that horrific nightmare he’d just endured yesterday. There is no way he is on another doomed mission with Changmin. They are not playing a couple. He was totally not turned on by Changmin’s pecs.

But Leeteuk’s loud electronic music slices into his ears like a knife, and Yunho’s heart skips a confusing beat.

Shit.

“HEY YOU GORGEOUS! EH, EH! HEY YOU GORGEOUS!”

“FUCK!” Changmin explodes from across the bedroom. “FUCK LEETEUK!”

Yunho grunts and drags himself up, bedcovers askew from tumultuous sleep. He sighs. Day Two.

The music suddenly stops and Leeteuk’s screechy voice tears through the intercom.

“AAAAAAAND THAT WAS ‘GORGEOUS’ BY DONG BANG SHIN KI! DID YOU SAY HEY TO _YOUR_ GORGEOUS THIS MORNING?”

Changmin looks livid. He jumps out of his chaise and starts to yell—probably more obscenities about ruining Leeteuk’s plastic nose—but it gets drowned by the cries of the resort host screaming his announcements through the speaker like a drill sergeant.

“HAVE A FANTASTIC AND SEXY DAY! WINK WINK!” Click.

Yunho grimaces. “Did he actually say wink?”

“If he plays another Dong Bang Shin Ki song again, I’m gonna fucking quit,” Changmin mutters furiously under his breath, snatching up his bed sheets and folding them angrily.

“Dong Bang Shin Ki’s not that bad,” Yunho points out, extricating himself from his pile of pillows and blankets on the bed. “That leader guy is pretty good.”

“Good my ass,” Changmin spats.

Yunho yawns. “I wouldn’t know.” He arches his back into a lazy stretch, arms in the air.

Changmin turns around. He raises a finger, probably ready to argue, but pauses, mouth hanging open. He stares at Yunho, lips parting, eyes round and distant.

Yunho frowns at him. “What?”

Expression shuttering, Changmin immediately turns back and grabs his blanket. “You take too long in the bathroom,” he says sharply, heading towards the bath. “I’m, I—uh—let me go first.”

He slides the bathroom door shut.

 

* * *

 

Yunho and Changmin briefly go over their objectives for the day as they finish their breakfast—in code, of course. But Changmin, who is a Big Dick, doesn’t seem to be very appreciative of Yunho’s brilliant efforts and tries to change his cryptonyms into something more “cordial”.

Except they’re not.

“How about DAMF,” suggests Changmin as they walk along a winding gravel-strewn path to the east side of the island, where they are to spend the next few hours doing their obligatory morning couple activities. “Stands for dumbass mother fucker.”

“No,” Yunho says flatly.

“Or TAMF. Triple ass mother fucker.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Or maybe Xtina.”

“Xtina? Christina Aguilera?” 

“Yeah,” Changmin says, his face plastered with a nasty grin. “I really like her song _Candyman _.”__

Yunho raises his brow. His years of research in foreign criminology has told him that the word “candyman” is actually American slang for drug dealer. Come to think of it, it’s actually a pretty good name, but Yunho’s not going to tell Changmin that.

He rolls his eyes at him instead. “That song was actually about sex.”

“I know.”

 _Oh._ Yunho scowls, defeated. “We’ll just stick with smoothie.”

“It’s a stupid name,” the younger detective grumbles.

“This entire operation is stupid.”

Changmin pauses, thinks it over, and frowns. “Yeah, true.”

Regardless, they both agree that it’s impossible for Heechul to be a suspect after probing into his office the previous night, which heeded no positive results other than the fact that Heechul really liked his job. A lot. But after yesterday’s events, it’s become hard to ignore the obvious—that the supplier should be someone who has access to all of the couples’ daily activities. In short, the smoothie has to be a resort staff member.

That should narrow things down quite a bit.

A jolt of excitement surges through Yunho. There’s progress.

Their path leads them through a thin forest bed and out to a small tropical cove in the east side of the island. Their destination, a wooden pavilion structure with sheer panel curtains, stands brilliantly on the edge of a pier, blocking their faces from the direct rays of the early morning sun.

Changmin pulls up a curtain and steps aside for Yunho to enter first.

Yunho pauses. Changmin’s never shown this much courtesy to him before, and it’s kind of throwing him off. He mutters an inaudible ‘thank you’ and steps in.

It’s quite spacious inside the pavilion. Thin white curtains drape all around from ceiling to deck, providing some gentle protection from the sun’s rays. The wooden floorboard is covered with a dozen yoga mats, and a dozen more scented candles lay scattered around them, like small lanterns floating on a river.

Yunho scrunches his nose. The candles smell of a strong mix of incense and trees.

They make their way toward the other side of the pavilion, where their group is lounging around a corner of comfortable ottomans. Yunho stares at the candles, wondering if it’s possible that the supplier had engineered the drug into them, but Changmin suddenly stops and Yunho walks straight into him.

An unfamiliar man with a large mop of black hair emerges from the group and turns to their direction. He sees Changmin and his eyes light up, mouth wide open in a smile, hand raised in the air as if to greet him—

—only for Changmin to glare back at him, eyes boring death, and the man’s expression falters. His raised hand moves back around to flatten his own thick hair, his long fringe falling over his eyes.

Yunho frowns. The man and Changmin seem to know each other.

“Well, it looks like all of our party is here!" The man has a low, croaky voice. He’s wearing a short white toga and has on a rather offensive pair of sparkling golden sandals. His large mat of black hair makes him look like a big Newfoundland dog. “Let’s get started on the yoga, shall we?” he says, clasping his hands together.

The man introduces himself to be Yesung, a certified tantra yoga master. He boasts about his credentials, his 10-year experience in the field (Changmin snorts), and how his acclaimed methods of combining regulated tantric energy with uncontrollable passionate energy have helped many couples with their sex lives (Changmin coughs very, very loudly).

The yoga guy pauses, eyes blinking, lips pursed, but then quickly resumes talking.

He is quite a good speaker, Yunho notes. He is also engaging, passionate, and has a very strategic method of keeping eye contact with everyone as he speaks.

Yunho turns to look at his partner to see his reaction, but Changmin is still eyeing the yoga guy like he’s mentally planning for his demise, and that doesn’t surprise Yunho one bit.

Yep. These two are definitely acquainted.

“Alright, everyone!” Yesung says after finishing his long boring speech of unnecessary, probably bullshit, explanations. “Let’s all have a seat and start with the children’s pose.”

Yunho snorts loudly at the ridiculous name, but no one seems to have found it funny at all. As if in a trance, the couples robotically settle into their mats and follow Yesung’s directions. They go on their knees and bend down, their arms extended outward on the mat. Yunho follows Changmin to the last two unoccupied yoga mats, near the entrance.

There’s silence for the next few minutes, apart from the sounds of waves crashing against the shore and Yesung muttering something about a particular breathing technique that Yunho’s not going to bother to try.

This painfully unnatural position is doing nothing to relax Yunho. His balls are sticking to his thighs. The pavilion is getting hotter and stuffier, like he’s inside a wet sauna. The scented candles around him are making everything a hundred times worse.

Yunho closes his eyes and plants his face on the mat. It’s way too early to be doing this. It’s way too hot to be doing this. Maybe he can steal a few minutes of nap time. Maybe he can skip this altogether and actually go take a nap. Or maybe he’s actually been asleep this whole time and everything’s just been a very ludicrous dream. Goddammit, this position is really squishing his nuts—

“Now!” Yesung suddenly cries, knocking Yunho off his doze. “Let’s stand and do the tree pose!”

Yesung raises his arms into the air like he’s about to take a dive and expertly pushes his entire body up with his legs. He raises his left leg and balances on his right. He presses his palms together, like a Buddhist monk in meditation.

“Now is the perfect time for some ambient noise,” says Yesung in a soft voice. He closes his eyes as if in a peaceful slumber. “This is the calm before the storm.”

Yunho lifts an eyebrow at Yesung. He is so fucking weird.

Yesung presses a button on his smartwatch. Relaxing, new age music starts broadcasting around the pavilion.

All the couples are doing the tree pose with ease, and Yunho’s come to the sad realization that he’s probably the only guy in the group who hasn’t attended a proper yoga lesson before.

“What’s with you and the yoga guy?” Yunho mutters to Changmin as he tries to balance on his right leg.

“Huh?” Changmin mutters, clearly not paying Yunho any attention. He’s still scowling at Yesung, and Yunho’s stomach squirms uncomfortably.

“Now the other leg,” Yesung commands.

“Do you guys know each other?” Yunho asks louder, his voice now heard over Yesung’s music.

Changmin’s lips twitch, but his eyes remain trained on Yesung. “What?”

Yunho can feel his blood pressure rising.

The music stops. Yesung opens his eyes.

“That was wonderful,” says the yoga dude, his smile smug. “Thank you everyone. Now, it is the time to do what we were all here to do.” He steps out of his mat. “To search for our tantric energy. Let’s start with the downward-facing dog position.”

“What the hell is that,” Jonghyun asks, though he doesn’t sound like he actually gives a shit.

The Yoga Master tries to hold in his laughter, as if Jonghyun’s just asked the most ridiculous question. “My dear, it is head down, buttocks up. Like so.” He bends down, touches the floor with his palms, and juts his ass out sharply. “Make sure your legs are straight, and you feel that stretch.”

All the couples, including Jonghyun and his similarly disinterested partner Key, do as they’re told. Yunho, naturally flexible, bends down with ease. He looks up to his right, and sees that Changmin is still staring down at Yesung like he’s watching his prey.

“Shim, if you know something you have to tell me,” Yunho says in a hushed voice after Changmin finally bends down to do the position.

Changmin looks at him. Finally. “What are you trying to say?” 

“I’m talking about you and—oh!”

Yunho loses his balance and falls onto his mat.

“Fear not!” Yesung cries from somewhere on the other side of the pavilion. “Tantric energy is passionate! Fierce! Absolute balance is no easy feat!”

Pouting, Yunho does the position again and scoots closer to Changmin.

“I’m saying, do you know—”

“Okay, don’t talk to me now,” Changmin grunts, eyes shut tight. “My calves hurt.”

Yunho glares at him. His partner’s stubbornness is putting him to the edge. Why is Changmin acting so strangely around Yesung? Is the yoga guy related to the case? And if so, what is Changmin not telling him? Who is Yesung, really?

His thoughts get scattered after Yesung tells them to switch to the baby starfish position. This position apparently has something to do with transferring karma and tantric energy… whatever that means.

Confused, Yunho looks at Taeyeon and Tiffany for guidance. 

His eyes widen. 

So that is what Yesung was talking about. He smirks.

Yunho drops to his knees in front of Changmin and violently pulls him down to the mat so he can lay flat on his back. Changmin opens his mouth to protest, but snaps it shut when Yunho spreads his legs into a wide, painful split. Changmin lets out an agonizing groan.

Yunho scoots closer and tucks his own crotch into Changmin’s groin, painfully close. 

Changmin’s head falls back. He closes his eyes and holds his breath. “You better not think.”

Oh, Yunho’s thinking a lot. He’s thinking about how great it is to finally get to look at Changmin from the top. How great it is to finally see him submitting to Yunho’s command. How great it is to finally feel—

What the fuck is he thinking?

Yunho shakes off his thoughts and focus his attention on Yesung instead. He watches the yoga guy go around the room, stopping occasionally to help couples in adjusting to the position.

“Seriously, that guy looks suspicious,” Yunho whispers.

“You need to chill.”

Yesung tries to encourage Jonghyun and Key into the baby starfish position. Both of them look reluctant to do the move. Yesung gives them a cheeky smile.

“He looks like a candyman,” Yunho says simply.

Changmin doesn’t say anything.

“The kind of guy that Xtina would sing about.”

Changmin continues to ignore him.

“Do you know something about the staff that I should—”

Changmin snaps. He wraps his legs around Yunho’s waist and pulls him down. Eyes widening in surprise, Yunho loses his balance and lands on top of Changmin, his arms folded across the younger man’s chest.

Across his very, very firm chest—

“My legs are in fucking pain and I’m boiling inside a fucking oven,” Changmin hisses. “You utter one more word I’m going to snap your neck in half.”

—And against his very, very sweaty collarbone. 

Yunho’s eyes wander up to Changmin’s face. Changmin’s eyes actually aren’t as brown as he thought. His eyelashes shouldn’t be legal.

“Ahem.”

Yunho and Changmin look up. Yesung is standing above them with a greasy smile.

“May I?”

“What?” they both ask.

“Allow me.”

Facing turning red, Changmin roughly pushes Yunho off him. 

Yesung kneels in front of Changmin and takes Yunho’s original position. He pushes down on Changmin’s legs, and Changmin lets out a restrained grunt.

“Now. Your posture is, for the most part, correct,” Yesung tells Yunho as he scoots closer to Changmin’s crotch. “However my dear, you’re not pushing in deep enough.”

Yunho stares at him, not comprehending Yesung’s words. “Excuse me?”

“Position yourself in the baby attack version, like this, and then push forward gently, but deeper.”

Changmin cranes up his neck. “What the—”

Yesung pushes his pelvis into Changmin’s crotch. 

Changmin falls back and slaps a hand over his eyes.

Yesung takes a deep breath. “Channel your prana,” he says softly. He pulls his pelvis slightly out and then pushes back in again. He repeats it a few more times, in small, rhythmic motions. Like he’s riding a toy horse.

Yunho is horrified.

Changmin looks murderous.

“Bring that cosmic energy deeper. And deeper. And deeper until you feel that transfer of the spirit and the karma,” Yesung continues quietly, and closes his eyes. “Do you feel the karma I’m sending to you, Changmin-ssi? That shiver of freedom?”

Changmin glares at Yesung so hard that Yunho wouldn’t be surprised if he actually ends up imploding. “Maybe about two inches,” he says darkly.

Yesung lets out a high-pitched giggle. “Always the one with the joke, eh Changmin-ssi?”

He forces Changmin’s legs down into a wider split. Changmin grunts, but then laughs derisively. “I didn’t even get to the punch line yet.”

That puts Yesung to a stop. His expression hardens up like drying cement. Yesung looks down, finally meeting Changmin’s eyes.

An unspoken message passes between them. Changmin gives Yesung a sarcastic smile.

Shuddering, Yesung quickly releases Changmin and stands up.

“Like so,” he tells Yunho. “Try.”

Changmin makes his way to stand up. “There’s no need to—”

Yesung pushes Changmin back down onto the mat. “Try, Yunho-ssi,” he repeats, smirking unpleasantly.

Yunho kneels down between Changmin’s legs, heart pounding unnaturally fast. Changmin shoots him a threatening glare.

Yunho scoots closer. The fabric of his own linen shorts brushes against the crotch of Changmin’s board shorts. Shit. He should have worn jeans.

“Go on,” Yesung encourages in a sing-song voice, nudging Yunho’s shoulder. He’s probably having the time of his life.

Lips drying up like chalk, Yunho drags himself closer. His thighs tense. His glutes clench. The fly on Changmin’s shorts grazes against Yunho’s own balls. Blood rushes forward.

Fuck.

“Don’t be shy!” Yesung cries with glee. He presses a hand on Yunho’s lower back and pushes him even closer, until Yunho’s thickening cock is sandwiched right between Changmin’s own balls.

Changmin’s ears turns bright red.

Yunho wants to jump into the sea and drown.

“Energy,” breathes Yesung as he nudges Yunho to move in rhythmic thrusts. “That transfer of energy. Do you feel it, Yunho-ssi? That passion? That tantric power?”

Yunho wants to die. This cloth-on-cloth rubbing is doing nothing to calm down his dick. “Uh… sure?”

Yesung pats Yunho on the back like a baby in need of a burp. “Great job.”

And just like that, Yesung leaves them, with Yunho’s dick tucked right under Changmin’s fly, half erect.

Wide-eyed, Yunho looks down.

Changmin has never looked this ready to kill.

Yunho pulls away from Changmin immediately. “I—I’m sorry—” he stammers, scrambling to stand up, but his knees are too wobbly to hold him. “I didn’t mean—you know it’s a natural reaction, I—I’m not—”

“Now switch to the downward-facing dog position!” Yesung shouts from somewhere behind him.

Changmin gives Yunho a knowing look. He bolts straight up and points at the mat. “Your turn.”

Resigned, Yunho sighs and bends down into the position, ass jutting into the air. Changmin’s hands gently guide Yunho’s hips into his own crotch. Yunho feels himself flushing. He’s never been in such a vulnerable position before, his back unprotected.

They stay in this half-assed dog position for the next few seconds. Blood is now rushing out of Yunho’s cock and into his head. Kai and Krystal are making weird sounds beside them, and Yunho doesn’t want to look up to find out why. 

Yunho hears Yesung tapping through the row of couples, yelling out encouragements. 

“Yes! Harness that energy! Good! Excellent! Fantastic transfer, Kai-ssi!”

Yunho sees Yesung’s leg appear behind Changmin.

“Changmin-ssi, that energy doesn’t seem to be transferring the correct way.”

Yunho feels Changmin’s hand on his hip stiffen.

“Here, let me show you.”

Yunho nearly falls off the mat as Yesung roughly pushes Changmin into him. Yunho pushes back, to keep himself balanced, but Changmin pushes deeper into Yunho’s ass cheeks, repeatedly. 

Yunho tenses. He can… feel Changmin’s cock.

His heart is threatening to jump out of his chest. He looks back. Yesung is wrapped around Changmin’s back, his own pelvis pushing Changmin forward in a rolling motion, like he’s riding a horse. Changmin’s ears are bursting with color, his face flushed with mortified embarrassment. 

“Deeper, Changmin-ssi! Deeper!”

After a few more thrusts, Changmin falls on top of Yunho. His cock twitches between Yunho’s thighs.

“Holy shit,” Jonghyun mutters. Yunho looks at the other couples. They’re all staring at them with glossy eyes. Tiffany looks offended. Key is cracking up. Kai looks ecstatic.

“Yesung-ssaem,” Krystal suddenly calls out, her smile blinding. “Can you help us too? I think my back here is kind of strained. Could you stretch it out for me?”

Yesung releases Changmin. “Of course, Krystal-ssi.”

He pats Changmin’s ass and heads over to Kai and Krystal. 

Yunho feels Changmin’s heart beating rapidly against his back, erect cock still poking into his ass.

 

* * *

 

Normally, in normal days and during normal situations, Changmin ignoring Yunho isn’t something noteworthy at all. But during abnormal situations in abnormal days, Changmin’s silence is… well, awkward.

Fucking awkward.

They don’t talk for the rest of the yoga lesson. Changmin is acting as if nothing had happened between them, and for that, Yunho is grateful.

Changmin would still occasionally eye Yesung like a predator in prowl, however, but he’s stopped looking obvious about it. They don’t have to graze their dicks against each other anymore—which is great—but knowing that he’s gotten aroused by Changmin—and that Changmin _reciprocated_ —still puts an unsettling feeling in Yunho’s stomach.

His balls are getting blue. That has to be it.

After sweating a few more half-hearted individual yoga poses, the couples are led to their next destination—a Roman bath, located inside a smaller temple in the resort. Marble decor accentuates the walls and floor. At the center is a heated swimming pool, dotted with golden lights. An assistant instructs them to change into light satin robes before they’re directed to the far left corner of the temple to the massage beds.

A handsome man with chocolate brown hair welcomes them. Yunho gapes. The man’s wearing nothing else but a gladiator skirt. Apparently, no one in this resort likes to wear clothes.

“I am your main masseur, Siwon,” introduces the young man, bowing. “Don’t be shy! Let loose today, so we can teach you how to please your partner the right way!”

“You start,” Changmin says quickly. He limply points at the massage bed, his eyes fixed on Siwon.

A feeling of dread starts building up in Yunho’s chest. Here we go again. 

He gingerly disrobes and lies on his stomach, resting his face on the plush face-down pillow. A waft of familiar incensed perfume immediately puts him in a comfortable daze.

Yunho closes his eyes. Siwon’s probably teaching them the massage techniques with oil, but Yunho’s completely zoned out.

His heart skips a beat as he feels Changmin running a hand down his spine. Changmin’s hands are strong but soft, much unlike Yunho’s own clumsy and calloused hands. Changmin gently caresses his lower back, unwinding the knots and soothing the cramps. He’s really, really good at this.

He squeezes his eyes. He needs to focus on the mission.

“We should check this guy out,” Changmin says quietly, breaking Yunho from his drowse.

“And the yoga guy too.”

Changmin nearly impales Yunho’s shoulder blade with his knuckles.

“Ouch!” Yunho yelps. He spins around. “What are you—”

Yunho stops. Siwon is gliding towards them, his eyes sparkling with devilish joy.

“No no no. You cannot use brute strength,” he says gently. “Here. Allow me. Lie back down, my dear.”

Yunho hesitates, his head pounding. But he’s going to lie face-down—nothing embarrassing could possibly happen, right?

Slowly, Yunho nods, and lies back down.

“Yunho-ssi, you must breathe deeper for me okay?”

“Uh, okay.”

“Close your eyes, and take a deep breath.”

He closes his eyes. He feels Siwon’s—no, Changmin’s hand on his bare shoulders again. Siwon is softly directing Changmin on where to move his hands. Up, and down. Up, and down. Changmin wanders lower and lower, massaging Yunho’s tensed lats with uncanny precision. Not too strong, not too soft. Up, and down. Strong, and soft.

Yunho stiffens as he feels Changmin’s hands below his waistline. His heart pounds at his ribcage. Changmin hands go rigid for a brief second before softening again, caressing Yunho’s lower back as directed by Siwon.

“Breathe in and out, Yunho-ssi,” says Siwon. “Bring it deeper into your cavity, and then out through your mouth. Deep, and out. _Deep,_ and out.”

A pool of arousal fills up Yunho’s lower belly. Shit. Not again.

Changmin’s gentle hands continue to move lower. Dangerously. Yunho grits his teeth. He feels his dick swelling, his face burning. Yes, this is only a physical reaction. It’s natural. There is nothing shameful about this. Everyone would react the same away if their nether regions were being touched.

Changmin immediately stops.

“Um yeah, thanks. I got it,” he says, voice awkwardly high-pitched.

“Make sure to use the oil,” Siwon reminds kindly, and wanders off to the next couple.

Yunho sits up, trying hard to not look at Changmin in the eye. 

“I… think we should switch,” Changmin says stiffly.

“Yeah,” Yunho answers a little too quickly for comfort and hops off the bed. 

Changmin lies down as Yunho slathers oil all over his hands. 

“So, uh…” Yunho starts awkwardly, still feeling a bit tense in the crotch. “Where do you feel… tired?”

Changmin turns his head to shoot him a look that is as sad as he is unimpressed. “Anywhere,” he says listlessly, and faces down on the pillow.

Yunho starts massaging his shoulders, tentatively at first. Changmin’s muscles are taut, stressed. They mold into Yunho’s hands perfectly, like a ceramic artist throwing the perfect pot on his wheel.

It’s warm and comfortable like this, and for a brief minute, Yunho’s forgotten the mission.

Siwon’s deep voice brings him back to reality. “Yes—it is the sultry blend of some of the world’s most desirable aphrodisiacs—incense, cucumber water, orris root, peru balsam, and with a spice of sandalwood. Definitely the most luxury choice of scent if you’re in for a long, hot night.”

Yunho feels Changmin tense up.

“The candles,” Yunho whispers.

“It’s the scent,” Changmin mumbles into the pillow. “It has to be the scent.”

 

* * *

 

Yunho nearly runs out of the temple as soon as Siwon adjourns the class. Any minute longer in there and Yunho swears he’ll burst into flames. 

“Alright,” Yunho hears Changmin say behind him. “I’m going to get the yoga guy while you try to get some things out of that grease dude—”

Yunho turns around so quickly Changmin almost walks into him.

“You know him, don’t you?”

“What?” Changmin asks, taken aback.

“The yoga guy,” Yunho repeats, softly. “You know him.”

Changmin doesn’t respond immediately. His jaw clenches, lips forming a thin line. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play games with me, Shim,” Yunho says in a low, threatening voice. “Yesung clearly knows who you are.”

Changmin’s expression eases. He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Oh Jung, please don’t tell me you’re jealous.” 

His insouciance tone pushes Yunho over the edge. “If you compromise our identities again—”

“Again? Pardon me, but it was you who—”

Changmin stops abruptly and looks over Yunho’s shoulder. His eyes narrow.

Yunho turns around.

Standing with his back to them is a dark-haired man in a white toga, bounded with golden trimmings. He’s rummaging furiously through his knapsack.

“Yesung,” Changmin mutters under his breath.

He advances toward Yesung, his steps urgent. Yesung turns and catches Changmin’s eyes. Brow raised in feigned confusion, he turns back and starts walking to the other direction.

“Yesung,” Changmin calls out.

Yesung picks up speed.

“Hey!”

Yesung breaks into a run. Yunho and Changmin sprint right after him. Yesung scrambles out of the temple, through the forest, and bolts to the western side of the island, straight to the direction of Yunho and Changmin’s villa.

“Shim!” Yunho points right, gesturing to Changmin that he’ll corner Yesung around the other side. Changmin nods and Yunho dashes to their villa’s veranda. Changmin shouts at Yesung again, and Yesung instinctively turns right.

Yesung stops in his tracks when he sees Yunho. He takes a few steps back. He turns around to run, but comes face to face with Changmin.

“Oh c’mon, man.”

Changmin kicks open the door to their villa and drags Yesung in, throwing him into a chaise. He seizes Yesung by the collar as Yunho closes the door behind him.

“Okay. G-gently,” Yesung says, almost pleading. “It’s couture.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Changmin snarls into his face. 

“I can say the same for you, baby cousin.”

Yunho’s jaw drops. “Cousin?”

“I’ll explain later,” Changmin says urgently.

“Well,” Yesung starts, trying to pry off Changmin’s hands, “technically it’s two times removed—”

Changmin jolts his collar. “Shut the fuck up and answer my question.”

Yesung heaves a bored sigh, as if he’s already answered the question many times. “Perhaps it’s the same reason why you’re here.”

His words stir Yunho’s memory. His breath hitches. “You’re BoA’s informant.”

The yoga guy smirks. “Yours truly.”

Changmin scoffs. “Since when did your noble ass start working for the police?”

“Hey, man! It’s good money. You guys pay well.”

“Changmin.”

He lets go of Yesung and turns to Yunho.

“If BoA already has a rat in the field, why would she send us?”

Changmin frowns. “Maybe because she thinks the case needs more backup? It is a pretty big bust.”

“True,” Yunho agrees. “Millions.”

“Billions,” Yesung corrects hastily, standing up and adjusting his collar. “By the way, are you and Detective Jung actually married?”

“She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?” Changmin snaps.

Yesung blinks. “Um… who?”

Changmin glares at him coldly, eyes unmoving. He’s thinking hard. “How much did the supplier offer you? Twice the amount? Four times the amount?”

The question takes Yesung by surprise. He laughs nervously. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Must be pretty good money. Good enough for you to throw the cops under a bus.”

Yesung smiles meekly. “Perhaps?”

Changmin gives him a haughty grin. “That’s fine. You don’t need to tell me. I’ll just turn you in. There would be plenty people at the station who would love to do yoga with you.”

The threat seems to work. Yesung shrinks back and gives Changmin a pleading look. “Come on, baby cousin, you don’t need to do that.”

“Oh, I think I need to. And tell your mom,” Changmin adds in a matter-of-fact tone, like they’ve been going on at this since they were kids. Which is probably true.

“Fuck.”

“So who is the supplier?” Changmin asks firmly, towering over Yesung.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know if you’re helping the supplier with the shipment?” 

“I don’t know, man! He never told me!”

“He?” Yunho asks.

“Kangin. He hit me up, said they’re short on people and paid me a good amount. Wants me to help him with the shipment tomorrow.”

Changmin furrows his brow in disbelief. “That Hulk guy is the final boss?”

“Nah, man. He’s just a dealer. There’s a bigger boss behind him.”

Yunho stares at Yesung, his mind racing. This just confirms what he and Changmin were thinking about all long—that only the resort staff would have the means to orchestrate such a large business in a licensed vacation resort. But who could it be? They’ve already ruled out Heechul, who doesn’t seem very adamant about drug-inducing sexual pleasure. Leeteuk is too obsessed with Taeyeon to do this. The resort butlers spend too much time pampering their guests for money to be interested enough in managing a large-scale drug deal.

But then he remembers: Heechul said there would be a banquet tonight.

“When and where is the shipment going to take place exactly?” Yunho asks Yesung.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Changmin says, voice raising.

“Look man, they’re really secretive, okay? They don’t tell me these things beforehand. Kangin said he’s going to let me know when it comes.”

“Is the supplier going to run a test tonight?” Yunho asks eagerly.

Yesung’s eyes widen, looking impressed. “How did you—”

“Just answer the question,” Changmin interrupts, impatient.

“Yeah,” Yesung says, straightening up. “They run tests pretty much every week, but I don’t know how they run them. It’s something different every time. I usually don’t know about it until after it happens.”

Changmin turns to Yunho. “The party.”

Yunho nods grimly.

“Yeah, party!” Yesung exclaims suddenly, causing Changmin to jump. “It’s plausible,” he adds in a small voice after meeting Changmin’s death glare.

Yunho insides lurch with worry. It’s all within his grasp, yet it’s still too far for him to reach. This test cannot succeed. His conscience won’t allow it. But where should he start? How can he stop them? He doesn’t know how the drug is being tested. He doesn’t even know where the drug is being manufactured. There is nothing. Nothing he could do except watch everyone succumb to hysteria. Slowly, numbly, helplessly.

Anger is now boiling at the pit of his stomach. No more games. Yunho’s going to flatten the entire resort if he has to.

“How many people are in this ring?” he asks, voice thin and raspy.

Yesung shrugs. “I don’t know. Could be just a few. Or hundreds. Up until now the only guy I’ve been talking to was Kangin.”

Changmin looks at Yunho, his brown eyes blazing with intensity, and an understanding passes through them. It has to end now.

He turns back to his cousin. “You’re going to stay put and set this straight for us.”

Yesung leans back on the wall and crosses his arms. “Do I even have a choice?”

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The yoga scene is based on [this sequence](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9FKtMzRwse4) from _Couples Retreat_ (2009).


	4. Mission 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year since I've last updated, and I sincerely want to thank you all for the patience and kind messages! It's all slowly coming together! Thank you [zimriya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya) for taking time to beta (ﾉ´ з `)ノ
> 
> Enjoy the chapter, and welcome back Yunho and Changmin!

To no one’s surprise, Yesung doesn’t actually know his shit.

He doesn’t know how the drug is being tested, he doesn’t know who is testing the drug, and he most likely doesn’t know what the drug is either, so why the fuck did BoA even recruit him in the first place?

Nothing is making sense. Changmin is seconds away from popping a vein.

They head over to the west side of the island, where Yesung leads them to a large terrace rising above the edge of the beach. 

“It’s such a beautiful sight,” Yesung sighs, wiping a fake tear. 

Changmin makes a sound half in astonishment, half in amusement. The patio extends all the way to the edge of the beach, as if it’s melting into the red and orange horizon. Roman columns hold up a ceiling made out of some sort of white hardwood. An assortment of vines and lanterns curl around every column and beam. A stone fountain stands at the entrance in front of them, decorated with rose petals and floating wax candles. It looks like they had walked into a seaside postcard.

Many of the couples have already arrived, sitting on round tables laid with glittering silver plates and glass. At one end is a performance stage, and the other a buffet table, already filled with food fresh from the kitchen.

“I’m so proud of it,” Yesung chokes. 

Yunho offers no comment. He folds his arms impatiently and halfheartedly glares at the fountain. He’s doing a pretty bad job at trying to not look impressed.

Yesung definitely did a good job at decorating the whole thing, and for a brief moment Changmin wonders how his cousin had managed to find the time to take interior designing classes when he was supposedly dedicating his life to tantric yoga, but before he could make that comment, a realization hits him.

Changmin takes in a deep, deliberate breath. 

Nothing but the salt of the ocean. No incense. No orris wood mixed into cucumber water. No sandalwood. 

He can’t smell the candles at all.

“I designed this myself,” Yesung says, jittering with excitement. “The soft orange lights, the Aegean decor, the—”

“What happened with the wax factory?” Changmin interrupts, a bit louder than intended.

Yunho gasps and tugs on his arm. “Shim!” he mouths, eyes darting around furiously.

“These aren’t the same candles,” Changmin hisses at Yesung.

His cousin playfully pats him on the chest in a way that just makes him angrier. “Relax, baby cousin. The show hasn’t even started yet.”

Changmin takes a step closer to Yesung, fuming. “You think this is _a show?”_

Yesung backs away a little and gives out an airy laugh as he pats Changmin a few more times on the chest. “Haha, I was just lightening up the atmosphere! Don’t be so tense all the time!” He turns to Yunho, serious. “Please don’t let him jump me.”

Yunho frowns at him. He bends over the fountain and sniffs it. “You’re right. This definitely isn’t the same smell.”

“I never said it was the candles,” Yesung points out unhelpfully. “I said I agreed with you that it _could.”_

Yunho suddenly snaps. He nearly pounces on Yesung, his eyes sharp with fury, and Changmin has never seen him lose his patience that fast before.

“Are you trying to waste our time?” Yunho snarls.

Yesung ducks behind Changmin. “They’re right _thereee,”_ he sings quietly, nodding his head to the side.

Changmin spins around. Kangin is angrily arranging a vase of flowers near the buffet table. Standing next to him is Heechul, in an ugly baby pink toga that once again isn’t doing anything good to his pink hair. He’s waving his hands in the air, talking animatedly with Taeyeon, who doesn’t look at all thrilled to be here.

“If I was trying to waste your time, I wouldn’t have brought you guys here, would I?”

Changmin and Yunho exchange frustrated looks, and Changmin knows that the same thought is going through Yunho’s head too: they’ve already gotten this far. There’s no point of turning back now.

“You better not be walking us in circles,” Changmin warns.

“We’ll stick to the original plan for now,” Yesung offers. “I’ll let you guys know first thing if something changes.”

“Fine,” Yunho says in a resigned voice.

Yesung darts off in Kangin’s direction.

Changmin snorts. He trusts Yesung enough to not get them in trouble, but trust alone won’t get them any closer in solving the case sooner. They’re stuck here with no new information and no new leads. What if this banquet was just a diversion? What if everyone in this resort is actually part of the drug ring? What if they were already discovered and they have just walked into a trap? 

The more he thinks about it, the more ridiculous everything is starting to sound. 

“This is fucking stupid,” Changmin mutters as he follows Yunho around the tables.

“So, your excellency,” Yunho says, his voice leaking sarcasm and not any less impatient. “What do you suggest we do?”

“Does it matter? All we’ve done so far is play make-believe like a bunch of three-year-olds. We’ve gained nothing from this. I’m not here for this shit.”

Yunho stops dead in his tracks. He turns around to face Changmin, expression hard. 

“Then why are you here?” he says, arms shaking. _“Why_ are you _still_ here?”

There’s a pause. All that built-up frustration and anger that Yunho’s been holding in for so long is slowly pouring out, and for some reason, that just makes Changmin want to edge Yunho some more.

“I don’t have to be here,” Changmin says instead, fully aware now that they are starting to attract confused looks, most likely because they’re standing awkwardly between two occupied tables.

“I know you don’t have to be here,” Yunho growls. “Sorry for wasting your time on such a petty assignment, _young master.”_

Changmin rolls his eyes.

“If you think this is stupid, you can always leave,” Yunho says, with no intention of keeping his voice down. “No one is stopping you. And no one has ever stopped you either, right? Because that’s just what you do. Just walk out like you own the place.”

Changmin glares at him, jaw set, knees locked. Two years of forced partnership and Changmin knows that no matter how many times he tries to convince Yunho that he is capable, that he is _earnest,_ Yunho would still treat him like a useless, spoiled prince who doesn’t know how to do anything else but suck up.

So this is how Yunho really sees him. A quitter. 

He grabs Yunho’s wrist just as the other man turns to leave. 

Yunho freezes, and a strange sort of tension settles between them.

Changmin’s breathing hitches, his hands tingling, the nerves in his fingers twitching to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Yunho’s fingers feel calloused at the edges, but his palm is warm, soft, comforting. Changmin calms down.

“I don’t quit, Jung,” he mutters under his breath.

A familiar voice cries behind them. “Sirs!”

Yunho pulls his wrist out of Changmin’s grasp just as their butler, Ryeowook, comes wheeling toward them with a cart full of wine. “Let me show you to your table now,” he says, bowing.

Avoiding Changmin’s eyes, Yunho rushes over to Ryeowook, who leads them to the east side of the terrace, furthest away from the buffet table. Changmin follows a few steps behind, sharply aware of the tight air building between them.

“How may I start the wine for you, sirs?” asks Ryeowook as they sit down. “We have Moscato d’Asti, Lambrusco, and Schiava.”

“Uh,” Yunho starts, his brow furrowed with thought.

“I’ll have the Shiava,” says Changmin, observing the cart. Remembering that Yunho isn’t much of a drinker, he adds quickly, “and he’ll have the Moscato d’Asti. It’s much lighter.”

“Of course, sir.”

Ryeowook uncorks a bottle of wine from his cart and pours it into Changmin’s glass.

Yunho’s staring now at him now, and Changmin hasn’t felt this uncomfortable in a long time. Ignoring him like what he always does, Changmin slowly, very slowly, reaches for the dessert menu that is perched between the candles and a plate of dried flowers at the center of the table. He starts flipping through it mindlessly.

Changmin still feels Yunho looking at him as Ryeowook moves on to Yunho’s glass.

It’s suffocating.

“I can see why now,” Yunho finally says after Ryeowook leaves them. "That talent of yours for being so… astute.”

Changmin glances up at Yunho, brow raised. “You should know that comes with the job.”

“I do. And that’s why it’s so hard to understand you.”

Changmin gives Yunho a stern look as he puts the menu back on its spot. “I don’t need people to understand me,” he says as he leans back on his chair, crossing his legs.

“Yet you understand people so well.”

Changmin looks away. He doesn’t know how to respond to that, and Yunho doesn’t add more.

“How did you know?” Yunho asks after a brief moment of silence.

Changmin raises an eyebrow and looks back at him. “How did I know what? That you can’t drink?”

Yunho looks down at his plate, a small pout forming on his lips.

Changmin feels a smile creeping across his face. This pleases him—his ability to recall even the tiniest, most trivial of details has always been the bane of Yunho’s existence, and despite Yunho’s resourcefulness, he just isn’t that observant of those around him. It makes for a good joke, and this sort of dynamic between them entertains Changmin a lot.

“I know a lot of things about you, Jung Yunho,” Changmin says softly, almost in jest.

Yunho’s cheeks darken. He gives Changmin a look of genuine curiosity, as if he’s admiring him, and Changmin feels his stomach lurch. 

Turning away, he goes for a sip of wine. “Probably a little too much.”

Yunho frowns. “And yet you’re always keeping things from me.”

Changmin’s chest tightens. This could go into a conversation that Changmin isn’t ready—doesn’t _want_ —to have, so he tries not to look at Yunho, but his partner doesn’t say more. The awkward silence lingers on and Changmin tries to distract himself by downing his Shiava—only to quickly realize his mistake and spits it back out.

“Maybe we shouldn’t drink or eat anything on this table,” Changmin chokes, setting down his glass.

Looking as though Changmin had just hit him, Yunho suddenly bends over the table and smells the plate of dried flowers. Just as Changmin is about to point out how unsanitary and undoubtedly dumb it is to directly sniff into a plate of over-scented dead flowers, Changmin realizes what Yunho’s trying to do.

Changmin bends closer and waves a hand over the candle centerpiece next to the flower plate, breathing into its aroma. The candle is producing a soothing smell of lavender and pine, different from the familiar dozing scent of incense and sandalwood. 

“A different scent again,” Yunho comments.

Changmin looks around. All the couples around them are just going about their usual business—Jonghyun and Key are crouching by their table, probably trying to sneak some utensils into their bags; Tiffany is sitting alone, arms crossed and eyes glaring holes into Taeyeon who is clearly ignoring Tiffany—Changmin suspects that Tiffany’s talk with Heechul didn’t go so well—and no one else is looking like they’re ready to fuck except for Krystal, who looks like she’s giving Kai a nasty hand job under the table. 

They really need to chill.

Changmin frowns. “Nothing is really happening.”

“You _want_ something to happen?” Yunho cries, incredulous. 

“Well if it’s anything on this table, something would’ve happened already, right? But they don’t count,” Changmin adds, gesturing to Kai and Krystal.

Yunho turns to their direction and immediately curls back like he’s been electrocuted, covering his face with a hand. “God, what the fuck Shim?”

Changmin shrugs. “I never said you had to look.”

“Well maybe the drug hasn’t taken effect yet,” grits Yunho stubbornly, eyes frantically averting Kai and Krystal’s direction.

“Haven’t you read the reports, Jung? It’s quick. If they took them something would have happened by now. And also, why aren’t we feeling it? We sniffed it!”

Changmin feels his own ears turn red as Yunho looks away with a shocked expression, color rising in his cheeks.

“Well obviously I don’t want anything to happen between us—ugh,” Changmin groans. He’s digging himself into a bigger hole. How did this get so awkward?

Yunho bites his bottom lip, visibly frustrated. “Well your cousin better find something soon. We’re running out of time.”

Changmin’s attention turns to the buffet table, where he sees Yesung coming out from behind a partition that guards the kitchen entrance. He mutters some words to Kangin, who frowns. Yesung looks up and meets Changmin’s eyes. He lifts an eyebrow in expectation. 

Changmin narrows his eyes. 

“You got it,” he tells Yunho.

Without waiting for a response from Yunho, Changmin hops off his chair and heads straight to the buffet, eyes watching Yesung and Kangin slip back into the kitchen. Changmin picks up a large hot plate from the side and aimlessly browses through the food, playing casual. His stomach grumbles at the sight of the lamb dishes. Might as well eat now and make the most out of this mission. 

Changmin grabs a pair of tongs and starts to pile random food onto his plate. Then, Yesung emerges from the partition and rushes over to the buffet table. 

Yesung grazes Changmin’s shoulder. “Candles,” he mutters through the corner of his lips.

Changmin looks up, but Yesung has already walked away and out of sight.

“Changmin-ssi?”

Changmin turns around and comes face to face with his masseur from this morning. The man, tall and sophisticatedly handsome, flashes a blinding smile at Changmin.

Changmin smiles back awkwardly. “Hey! Um—”

“Siwon, Choi Siwon,” the young masseur says, bowing politely. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Changmin bows back. “Pleasure is mine as well.”

Siwon’s smile widens into an elfish grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Changmin drops his tongs. It lands on the table with a loud clang, the piercing sound reverberating through Changmin’s ears. He feels a rush of blood draining out of his face and into his heart, now beating faster with each second. 

Does he know?

Siwon picks up the tongs and hands them back to Changmin.

“The son of Superintendent Shim Dongsik, head of the Seoul Police Agency,” he says with the same white smile, bordering on a smirk.

Changmin’s heart is threatening to pound out of his chest. His hands shake, leg muscles taut. Shit. Any moment now Siwon’s going to rat him out to the supplier. They’re going to pull out their guns and shoot, and neither Changmin nor Yunho would have the weapons to defend themselves. Or they’re going to take all of the people here as hostages, forcing Changmin and Yunho to bet all or none. They’re going to get away scot-free, and this very mission will fail. Changmin will fail again.

“I’ve read so much of your father’s work,” Siwon continues. “He’s absolutely brilliant! Now that he is the superintendent of our city, I feel like we are in safe hands. The last one—” Siwon bends down closer to Changmin’s face, his lips inches from Changmin’s ear, “—was terrible.”

A powerful wave of relief sweeps over Changmin. He doesn’t know.

“Thank you,” Changmin says, voice higher than usual. Changmin hopes Siwon hadn’t caught his moment of great relief. “I’m sure my father would be flattered to hear that.”

“What brings you here, young Shim? A new case perhaps?”

“No!” Changmin says quickly, heart racing again. “I’m here for… um… well I’m here because… uh… well you know why I’m here,” Changmin says instead, grimacing at his own response.

Siwon’s mouth forms an ‘O’. “That’s right. Your husband. I didn’t know you were married!”

Changmin gives a frustrated sigh, chest aching. His heart can't take too many surprises anymore. He shrugs. “Yeah. I didn’t know I was either.”

Siwon stands up tall in horror. “Oh my god,” he cries, clutching his chest. “Were people not supposed to know?”

Changmin’s eyes widen with shock. “No! It’s… uh…”

Someone roughly brushes past Changmin from behind, nearly pushing him into Siwon. It’s Tiffany, an arm over her face, speeding away from the banquet.

“She’s been like this all night,” Siwon says, his face sorrowful. “I wish I could help them.”

“Maybe they’ll eventually find _something_ that can help them,” Changmin says carefully, watching Siwon’s expression.

Siwon widens his eyes like he’s reached just an epiphany. “I suppose so. They do eventually make up. They always...”

Changmin has stopped paying attention. He watches Yunho run after Tiffany, shouting her name.

 

* * *

 

Two minutes drag through like two hours. Changmin watches Yunho from afar, how he touches Tiffany on the shoulder, how he talks to her with an engaging smile, how he makes Heechul laugh. Changmin glares, anger coursing through every vein inside him. Since when did Yunho get so close with Tiffany? Shouldn’t he at least inform Changmin of what his plans were? Yunho’s always on Changmin’s ass about going rogue, yet Yunho’s the one who always makes the decisions, always the alpha in control, always has to take the first step. Yunho still treats Changmin like he’s some spoiled, inexperienced tween, and Changmin is sick of Yunho’s coddling. He’s had enough.

Changmin downs his second glass of wine when Yunho returns to their table. He gives Changmin a wide-eyed look, perhaps trying to tell him that _the wine could be spiked with the drug too what the fuck do you think you’re doing,_ but Changmin doesn’t really give a shit anymore. He just needs to drink.

“What happened with the whole thing about me chatting with Tiffany and you talking to Taeyeon, huh?” Changmin spits out as Yunho sits down.

“What?”

Changmin sets the empty wine glass down on the table, head now feeling a little light. “I mean, Jung. I’m an easy-going guy. If you think I’m such a drag then I’ll back out. I don’t mind.”

Yunho stares at him, jaw slack. “What are you talking about?”

Changmin scrunches his nose, face swimming in heat. “Just don’t want to be in the way between you and the ladies.”

Yunho makes a face. “You think I’m trying to flirt with Tiffany? Now?”

Changmin purses his lips and doesn’t answer. He hasn’t realized how dumb he’s feeling until Yunho’s said it out loud. So what if Yunho was flirting with Tiffany? Why should he care? 

Yunho’s still staring at him, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. The air around them starts to feel tight again. Changmin clears his throat and picks up the wine bottle, pretending to read the label.

After what feels like a long moment of Yunho trying to grasp his mind around what Changmin had said, he finally says, “Is that what you think I am?”

Changmin uncaps the wine bottle and pours another glass. “Frankly Jung, I don’t care what you are.”

Yunho gives Changmin a disapproving look. “You know that drink could be spiked.”

“Well it’s clearly not, because I feel everything _but_ horny right now.”

Yunho’s mouth thins. “Well,” he starts, tone lyrically sarcastic. “I’m sorry for ruining your vacation. I didn’t know you were trying to look for a date. Was it Tiffany that you were interested in, or that massage guy?”

Changmin scoffs. “I am not going to respond to that.”

Yunho leans back, crossing his arms. “You don’t need to. I’ve seen the way how he looked at you. Have you forgotten why you’re here, Shim?”

Changmin takes a sip of his wine. “Speak for yourself, Jung.”

Yunho slams his hands on the table and abruptly stands up, the feet of his chair scraping against the slick, marble floor. The chattering around them dies down, like a wave had just swept over them. 

“What are you keeping from me?” Yunho says slowly, dangerously soft.

Changmin gives Yunho a bewildered look. People are now staring at them. “Keeping what?” he whispers.

Yunho looks ahead. Changmin turns around and sees Siwon gaping at them. Catching Changmin’s glare, Siwon widens his eyes and quickly looks away.

“Who is he?” asks Yunho.

Changmin looks back over at Siwon, who is now very into his food, and then back at Yunho. “The massage guy.”

Yunho straightens up. His mouth thins, expression severe. “And this, Shim, is why we can never work.”

He storms off, shoulder brushing past Ryeowook so hard the butler nearly drops his plate of wine.

Heechul wails. “Another one?”

Changmin stares after his fake husband-in-crime, jaw dropping, confused and at a loss at what had just happened.

 

* * *

 

Changmin hasn’t had the opportunity to ask Yesung to clarify about the candles, as his cousin had been too busy socializing by sucking up to all the couples and also his boss Heechul, who is now embarrassing himself on the dance floor. Kangin is standing on stage by the DJ, looking like he’s ready to tear the place apart.

After a bit more moping around and poking random candles, Changmin finds Yunho sitting back at their table, arms crossed, stone-faced as he eyes the kitchen entrance. 

Changmin sits down. “Well, you’re not making this subtle.”

“Nothing that has happened tonight was subtle,” Yunho scoffs.

Changmin can’t disagree. “He told me it could be the candles.”

Yunho snaps his head at Changmin, face turning impatient. “Which candles? The ones by the fountain? The table? The weird ones floating on the columns? Which fucking one?”

“Maybe the ones that haven’t come out yet,” Changmin sneers, annoyed with Yunho’s attitude.

Yunho rolls his eye and stands up. “No wonder you two are related.”

It definitely wasn’t meant to be a compliment, but Changmin doesn’t really give a shit what Yunho says anymore.

 

* * *

 

After another hour of scoping around aimlessly and smelling all the scented candles in the banquet terrace like a fucking creep, Changmin is finally unable to take it anymore. He storms into the kitchen, grabs Yesung by the collar (who seemed to be busy decorating a cake—when the fuck did he learn how to decorate a cake), and pulls him into the men’s restroom beside the kitchen.

Changmin slams Yesung against a stall. “Please tell me you’ve found the source.”

“Baby cousin, naughty mouth! Do you not understand how this looks to other people?”

“I’ve been at this for nearly an hour, okay? I’ve tried everything. The drinks. The food. Those fucking perfume leaves—”

“Potpourri?”

“It doesn’t fucking matter. Look, hyung, just tell me when the fucking candles are coming out.”

“It’s not the candles.”

Changmin blinks. “What.”

“It’s not the candles.”

Changmin wants to strangle Yesung.

“THEN WHY DID YOU TELL ME IT WAS THE FUCKING CANDLES—”

“Shh!” says Yesung desperately, a finger over his lips. “I meant to say I _think_ they’re not the candles—”

Changmin drops his voice. “And you’re telling me this now _because?”_

“Look, baby cousin, the more I pry, the more they’re going to be suspicious of me. What am I going to say when Kangin starts asking questions?”

“If you told me earlier, we wouldn’t have wasted so much—”

“It’s tonight. They’re testing it tonight,” Yesung says quickly. “Trust me on this, okay?”

Changmin glares at his cousin, still breathing deeply. He releases his collar.

“If you toss me around—”

“Look, man. I don’t want to get arrested, okay? Why would I lie to you now?”

Changmin takes a step back and observes Yesung. 

“We work together,” his cousin says, voice low.

“Fine,” says Changmin, and storms out of the restroom. 

He sees Yunho outside waiting for him.

“Your cousin—”

“Two times removed,” Changmin reminds angrily.

“Has he found anything yet?”

“Well,” Changmin says, hands on hips. “It’s probably not the candles.”

Yunho’s nose flares, lips thinning. “WHAT?”

Changmin scratches his head. “If it’s not the candles, then… could it be ingested?”

“So we’ve just wasted an entire hour!” Yunho cries out incredulously.

“Not exactly, because we do know the test is tonight—”

“You made me try everything, Shim! These drinks, these entrees, those dead-fucking leaves—”

“The potpourri! Please don’t tell me you ate the potpourri.”

“—and sex is the last thing I want to do right now!” 

Changmin shrugs and raises his hands in the air. “That’s great?”

Yunho glares at him. “You really are enjoying this aren’t you?”

Everyone is staring at them. Again. Heechul lets out a gasp. Kai and Krystal are no longer distracted by each other.

Changmin’s ears are buzzing at the loud silence. “Jung! People are _watching!”_

Yunho ignores him. “You really like it when you waste my time, don’t you? This happens every fucking time we go out!”

The people around them start to whisper. Changmin feels numb. He opens his mouth, but is at a loss of what to say. They just need to get out of here, now.

“Jung—”

“Are you even serious about this?”

Changmin laughs nervously. “As serious as vacation gets!” he says loudly so the crowd can hear, so they can stay in character, so they know that this is just a squab between a couple and nothing more.

“You see, this is why I can’t stand being with you,” Yunho sneers. “You’re never serious. Everything is just a joke to you…”

Changmin is starting to feel frantic, the whispers growing louder. “Are you forgetting where we’re at?” he says urgently through gritted teeth.

“Do you think I fucking care now?” Yunho nearly shouts, looking deranged. “It’s happening tonight and you don’t even care! Why should I?”

The crowd around them gasps, wide-eyed and fixated. A shocked Siwon slaps a hand over his mouth.

Panicking, Changmin seizes Yunho by the arm and drags him out of the terrace and down toward the shore. Yunho swings his arm out of Changmin’s grasp right when they’re out of earshot.

“Are you fucking out of your mind?” Changmin pants. “You almost got our covers blown!”

“Oh, I didn’t know you still remembered,” Yunho deadpans. "Just trying to remind you, _dear.”_

Changmin looks at him in disbelief.

“What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?”

“Wrong with me? _What’s wrong with me?”_ Yunho cries, voice raising. “The deal’s happening tomorrow and we got nothing. No strawberries, no pineapples, no _fucking ice cream smoothies!_ And you’re just standing around, talking with your—with your… _cousin?”_

“Two-times removed—”

“What does that even mean?”

_“I don’t fucking know!”_

“Do you know how important this mission is for me, huh?” Yunho says furiously. “Do you know how important it is for me to get this right?”

“Hey, it’s important for all of us! It’s why we’re all here!”

Yunho looks at Changmin like he’s just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. He chokes out a painful smile. “Oh man, the fucking _lies.”_

 _Lies._ Changmin narrows his eyes at him.

“You don’t need this!” Yunho bellows, arms waving in a frenzy. “Do you know how fucking annoying it is to see you taking the things that I’ve worked so hard for? All they see is you! Do you know how I feel?”

White-hot anger pours inside Changmin, shaking him. “You know nothing about what I need,” he grits, fists clenching.

“Because you don’t need to give a fuck,” Yunho goes on, hysterical, and Changmin is trying so hard to compress the desire to hurt him. “You’re born with a silver spoon! All you got to do is shed some unicorn tears and then your daddy comes flying towards you with the badges. Do you know how hard it is for me to get to this position? How many blood and tears it took for me to climb all the way up here, while you just get to sleep in your little crib and suck your thumb like a weak ass piece of sh—”

That’s it. Changmin launches himself at Yunho and punches him in the face. 

“ARGH!” Yunho snarls as he tries to push Changmin off of him.

“YOU MOTHER FUCKER!” Changmin roars.

They tackle each other to the ground, sand flying everywhere, weathered rocks scraping into their backs. Changmin throws another punch at him and Yunho grabs Changmin by the jaw, twisting his face away so hard Changmin thinks his neck would probably snap, but he doesn’t care, doesn’t care at all. All he wants to do is hurt.

Yunho knees him in the stomach and Changmin buckles backwards. Yunho pounces, pinning him to the ground. Howling in pain, Changmin grabs Yunho by the neck and slams his head down to the sand bed. Yunho’s hands finds their way to Changmin’s neck and crushes.

“FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” voices yell.

It’s a blur. Changmin doesn’t know how long they’ve been at it, doesn’t know how long he’s been on top of Yunho, hitting and strangling his throat, throwing all that pent-up anger inside him onto Yunho. “Stop, stop!” Changmin hears someone yell—probably Heechul—but what would that matter? No one can stop him now. All he wants to do is hurt. Hurt Yunho for knowing knowing nothing. Yunho knows nothing. How dare he know nothing.

Then someone yanks him out of Yunho, dragging him a few feet away.

“YOU GUYS FUCKING CRAZY?” Changmin hears Kangin yelling.

Yunho makes a charge at Changmin, but Leeteuk and Siwon pull him back, restraining him.

“YOU’RE RIGHT!” Changmin screams, so loudly that his throat starts to burn. “MY DAD IS ALL POWERFUL! I CAN DO EVERY FUCKING THING I WANT!”

Yunho screams out in frustration as Leeteuk and Siwon pull him further away. They’ve now attracted the crowd to the beach.

“Calm down!” Heechul cries, rushing to stand between them. “This is why we’re all here! To prevent this from happening! There’s nothing that can’t be solved!”

Changmin shakes himself out of Kangin’s grip.

“I train every day and night for that fucking whistle, and what does that give me?” Changmin says breathlessly, pointing at his own chest, insides churning with the pain that he has kept hidden for so long. “That everything I have, that everything I earned, is because of my father!”

Yunho stares at him darkly, chest heaving.

“Don’t even pretend you know who I am Jung Yunho, because you don’t.”

And with that, Changmin walks off, without a backward glance.


End file.
